


Memento Mori

by eastsidegallery (northno3), northno3



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/F, F/M, OCs - Freeform, Romance, slow-build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-06 23:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 102,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3152219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northno3/pseuds/eastsidegallery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/northno3/pseuds/northno3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the years after the war, Ty Lee chases ghosts. Azula confronts her own hubris and remembers her mortality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Windowsill

The wedding was held on a Tuesday. She only knew because Mondays brought spice bread with her dinners and today a presumptuous jug of rice wine, and the windows were much too small to betray anything beyond the speck of sky and the growing acridity of the prison air that denoted the coming autumn.

She hated the autumn, she hated the cold and wet. She longed for the long summer days that stretched the sun forever across the skies. The heavy incense they burned in the sconces of the walls kept her docile and slow, but she remained alert enough to remember the things close to her. In the beginning, she was surprised that the first things that came to her were not the days of glory or the fervent worship of her military subordinates, or even the honor bestowed to her by her father and won by the fire of her blood. Instead, there were gentler things, forgotten in places so old it was sure to instead have been figments contrived desperately from the fragments of her sanity.

She was sure (maybe) of summer days spent on a beach, with people she had not yet begun to truly hate. More often than not, it was purely about these people. Other times it was of her younger days spent at the palace, amongst the grass, stone gardens and turtle-ducks. Sometimes, she remembered her mother.

Still, her rage remained poisonous. It flowed from her organs and gathered beneath her skin, roaring its discontent while her limbs had grown too heavy and languid to obey her. She glared impotently at the tendrils of smoke drifting from the walls of her imprisonment, unable to tell how much of this was attributed to her own failing mind and how much to her inability to rise above her circumstances.

Her self-awareness did not do much to save her. The incoherence of her own anger was degrading, its presence as elusive as fire bending.

If she listened carefully now, she could hear sound of celebration that floated in from outside the walls. If she closed her eyes she could see the throngs of people dancing along the neat lines of Zuko and Mai's procession. She could see their smiles, their raucous laughter filling her ears so much where she had to hold her hands pressed against the sides of her head. Their faces taunted her, her father's crown shining defiantly in Zuko's topknot, her birthright-hers! They had cheated. What right did they have to happiness while she festered within these stone walls? She had played by the rules, she hadn't complained like Zuko, she had borne her tasks with staunch servitude to her country. Her achievements were conceived by her excellence in battle, the power of her charisma, and her talent for besting and outsmarting the wisest of war councils. Whereas Zuko had floundered, Azula was a beacon, the product of the knowledge and guidance of her dynasty.

But Zuko had owned the wildcard, the Avatar, and in the end this was all that mattered.

Azula lifted her hands against the sky of her cell. The shackles of her wrists clinked mournfully against her chains when she remembered how the Avatar and the usurpers had quarreled viciously over her fire bending, vultures tearing at a fresh corpse. Their bloodlust had been palpable, and she had waited patiently in silence for the day when they would come to tear the fire from her body.

In the end the Avatar had not appeared but only lowly bodyguards and soldiers that clambered fearfully into her chamber, simultaneously in awe and terror of the monster that smiled hungrily with crazed golden eyes. Her brother had been there as well, his face dark with thought, lips set in a thinly veiled grimace as she howled with laughter.

It was  _so_  funny.

"How silly you look with father's crown! Don't you know Zuko, only children play pretend!" She smiled charmingly, knowing from the twin visages of horror and disgust that eroded his false conviction that it had made the desired effect. She talked straight at his scar, reminding him with pointed self-consciousness that they were born of the same blood and ire.

"How good of you to visit me, dear brother." She bared her teeth with her smile.

"Azula." His voice had been small and mournful and betrayed all his weaknesses, but he was wise enough to say no more. She couldn't bear his lies and he was tired of giving them.

They were siblings once, a brother and a sister. Now they stood on opposite sides of a yawning chasm, waiting for the other to fall. Only a mutual truth reached them.

There must have been a signal, because at once, the room had come to life. They rushed from all sides, their fear at their throats and their hands reaching, grasping for her, to quench the gift of her blood, her lineage. It was her life they were hunting now; the fire was her existence, and without the light Azula knew that she would not survive. It was a battle, and with this knowledge, Azula felt that this was surely what it must feel like to come home.

Her rage had been so easy to articulate in streams of white and blue. The air roiled with fire and screams, crackling as she summoned her passion in brilliant constellations. The roar of battle was strong, and so was the call of the flame. She had painted her walls with the heavy armored bodies of her captors, wading amidst the ocean of those that fell beneath her joyous rapture.

Yes, this was home. There was no end to this army of guards, the defenders of this throne-pretender. But she had closed her eyes and remembered her graduation of the Fire Academy's combat programs at the tender age of 12, heralded by the simultaneous defeat of 10 of her upperclassmen. There were more men now but it remained the same. This was no execution, this was her legacy.

Zuko had leapt in as a vain attempt to save his men and she howled triumphantly, exultant in the lightning that danced from her fingertips and the fire that licked ravenously to devour them whole.

Their bodies crashed together and she wondered if this would be the end to their duality, their eternal rivalry, and it occurred to her that Zuko still thought that they could both survive. His pretentiousness was galling and she had yearned to remind him that it was she who had been groomed for greatness, not for the walls of metal and stone, and that his years spent journeying had not taught him anything except how to grow selfish and weak. But  _she_ had not forgotten the lessons of her father, the ones branded directly by his hands and coursing over her skin. She would  _never_ forget.

She had allowed a glancing fire punch to her temple and she snarled bestially as he staggered, shocked that he had landed with such an elementary technique.

"DO IT! Kill me or you'll never see the light of day again!" Her throat was hoarse and refused to swallow her tears (of anger) anymore. Men fell away from them fearfully, as her posture stooped, her arms arcing in the air to divide the poles of her chi and connecting it once again at the solidly grounded figure of her older sibling. Her brother, so sheltered and protected, so lovingly guarded, so much older than she but at the same time more young and eternally foolish.

The ground had risen up to strike her in the jaw, and the world spun nauseatingly as she felt the growing weight of angry and desperate men pinning her arms to her sides, forcing her head to the cold floor of her cell. She screamed as the lightning-her lightning-was shot into the empty air.

"Kill me!" The cold fingers of fear curled themselves around her stomach. Her face was wet, the lengths of her fingernails breaking across the ground as she clawed furiously for deliverance. Zuko's face was cold but she could see the cracks of ramparts waiting to fall. "KILL ME!"

Iron cuffs clapped themselves on her wrists, her ankles, and she had choked as her head was jerked back by her hair and the final iron collar put in place. The newness of studs of metal digging into her flesh felt distantly officious next to the familiarity of the evaporating heat in her bones. She had felt the same bindings before, she had been chained like this in another memory, by the greatest deceiver of all. A girl who had fooled even her with gentle smiles that hid insidious intentions and taught her that even in moments of assured triumph, she was alone.

She had known instantly who had made these new chains. Who had betrayed her again.

It was the last time Azula remembered how to manifest her rage. The next day, they began burning the incense in the walls, and she forgot her anger, and spent her days staring at the emptiness of her hands, her nights dreaded and sleepless.

She was unsure how long ago they had come in to bind her bending. It seemed like a lifetime ago, years dissolved in the purple haze, and now she was staring out of her windowsill, listening the ghosts borne from her memories. She closed her eyes, relishing the breeze of the ocean that swept over her face.

She sat amidst a vast ocean, frozen in time and far from the mainland, and the sea air carries more than the smell of salt and grime, but the sounds of an ancient city. Zuko was getting married, said the whispers of her timeless guards, and she knew that as her brother would welcome the bride in his marriage-bed, so would the nation welcome their Fire Lord and Lady.

With a noiseless sigh, Azula fell from the window, her fall cushioned by the superfluous and ostentatious pillows (the false semblance of a home) that dotted her extravagant prison. She returned to staring aimlessly at her hands, pondering the anger and fire she could no longer arouse.

"Azula?"

She didn't look up. She wouldn't dare, because she had grown to forget what was ephemeral and what was real. At first, it had been her mother (sad and forgiving), then it had been her father (frenzied and violent), and finally it had been Ty Lee. She had learned to ignore them all, learned to preserve what was left of her dignity without incurring the shame that echoed in the laughter from her guards.

This girl wasn't real, she was sure, but a pathetic creation. The real girl had long left her for the lofty promises of a different glory. She had smiled ruefully as she had said her apologies and goodbyes (Azula had snarled and spat them back) and left with assured confidence and candor. A part of Azula had wanted to scream  _don't leave me_ , but the girl had already run so far away, enrobed in green and white and the sweet fervor of freedom.

"I'm sorry I'm late, Azula. I brought you something." The delusion said, a chimera of all of Azula's fears and impotent desires.

There was a small patter, as if something had been reverently lain on the ground. Her mind was cunning and deceitful, as it imagined small hands reaching through the iron wall hesitantly, before resting at the bars, resigned and quiet.

"It sure was hard to get! You would think with so many of these things around that they wouldn't mind giving a girl just one… Oh, but everything was so wonderful, Azula! There were all these people-the entire city came out!-and oh, the music! Mai was so beautiful in her dress and their vows were so romantic…" The voice rang false with conjured elation and Azula couldn't help but think how Ty Lee looked suspiciously like she last remembered her, frozen and immortal.

"I wish you could have been there." She imagined the voice to be soothing and gentle, smoothing the edges of her frayed mind, easing the cold from her bones with its warmth. At another time, she would have welcomed it, bathed herself in the memories of another life and allowed herself the pleasure of self-indulgence, but today was not the day.

"Don't cry, Azula…"

"Leave me alone." She whispered bitterly, hating the ghost who wore the face of her final betrayer. The one who placed her here, who had irrevocably ruined her, would be reaching out with pleading and remorseful eyes. Azula couldn't bring herself to face the personification of her downfall.

"It's ok, Azula. We won't talk if you don't want to."

She imagined fingers settled gently over her scalp, winding themselves loosely in the snarled strands of her hair, stroking softly with maternal kindness. The silence was peaceable, broken intermittently with disembodied hushed murmurs.

Through the purple smoke and barred windowsill, she could see the golden rays of the sun turning deeper, and the sky darker. Her eyelids were growing heavy and it wasn't long before she closed them.

When she opened them a little while later, her cell had grown dark, the only light shining from the embers inside incense sconces of the walls. The hallucination had disappeared, like she had hoped, and she smiled despondently at the space around her.

She rose from her lounged position on the floor, fumbling in the dark for the cushions that pillowed her body from the coldness of the stone floor. Even in the low light, something bright and red erupted against the nebulous shadows, and she stooped down to retrieve a fire blossom, left lone and vibrant at the feet of the iron bars.

She turned it over in her hands, the lushness of the petals still wet with freshness, and marveled with naked awe at its tangible beauty and the blood that flowed from the bite of its thorns.


	2. Friend of the Night

It was soon after nightfall when Zuko was able to return to his study, worn and exhausted from a long day of negotiating and drafting monotonous legislation that had absolutely nothing to do with his planned projects for the rebuilding of public facilities damaged in the war. His meeting with foreign diplomats had continued to frustrate him, with trade and aid agreements stymied by the considerable wall of mistrust and suspicion he had run into with Earth Kingdom officials.

Although King Kuei had acknowledged the change of Fire Nation regime with open diplomacy and frank relations, he had bowed to internal pressures amongst the Earth Kingdom confederacy, and allowed respective demands from other Earth Kingdom cities to be heard. Zuko and his advisors were consistently bogged with demands for financial reparations for the damage caused by the Fire Nation in the war, and the young Fire Lord had found it hard to balance out the economic needs of his country, while simultaneously acknowledging the wrongdoings of his family's legacy.

The presence of the Avatar had helped at first to soften the flow of demands, but ultimately the injustices were too much to be marginalized by mere decorum, and Zuko's ministers had been promptly swamped in the years that followed. Aang left shortly after grounds for diplomacy had been established-owing partly to the nature of his difficult and ponderous job and also to the restlessness of his friends-and the Fire Nation had been left to its own devices, barring the occasional visit during especially momentous or problematic conferences.

When the international negotiations had ended for the day, his advisors had pressed the issue of concerns closer to home. Hundreds of thousands of acres of arable land had been destroyed in the war, leaving the Fire Nation without a viable crop for the harvest season. Calculations taken from the city's granaries concluded that even if the entirety of its rice were rationed to the people, there still would not be enough to feed the public past next winter. His advisors had been quick to point out that their major rice importer was a burgeoning agricultural kingdom currently embroiled in a civil war-a dispute over the throne, ironically-that would make shipment impossible until an indisputable ruler had established himself. Zuko would have a catastrophic famine on his hands within two years, unless he could secure another grain source.

Sighing, he dropped heavily into his chair, pulling off the crown that adorned his topknot and casting it on the table wearily. Putting his elbows on the desk, he dropped his face into his hands and tried to relax. Era of love and peace, indeed.

He hadn't spent too long sitting silently when his thoughts were disturbed. Zuko had come to recognize the large pounding that resonated whenever one of his bodyguards announced the presence of a visitor.

"What is it?" He called through his fingers, biting back a groan of frustration. By the spirits below, if it was another one of those prattling Earth Kingdom ambassadors demanding recompense, he was going to set something on fire.

"Lady Ty Lee to see you, my Lord."

Zuko let out an ill-disguised sigh of relief. He had forgotten about their meeting, but it failed to arouse the same anxiety that it would had it been another person. Although they weren't particularly close, Zuko always felt a certain measure of ease around the young girl, and attributed it to her free-spirit and cheery nature that not only survived the war, but blossomed with her growth into adulthood. Zuko had remembered how in their childhood, he found Ty Lee to not only be tiresome but entirely aggravating. It could have been his years spent surrounded by presumptuous politicians and wading through indolent bureaucracies, but he had come to tolerate Ty Lee's regular presence and was even a little happy when the young woman had finished her training period on Kyoshi Island and chose to become part of her coalition's peacekeeping regiment at the Fire Nation capital.

Zuko, shamefully, couldn't deny that Ty Lee had become to take on an extremely useful part of his political initiatives as well.

"Send her in." He said shortly, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms, trying his best to appear presentable. At once, the tall doors swung open, admitting a comparatively small figure dressed in her characteristic pink and red. Although her smile was constant, the wearing at the corners of her lips spoke of her fatigue and exhaustion.

In the time since the war ended, Ty Lee had shook off any remnants of the awkwardness of youth, growing tall and slender from her years away at training. Although long-limbed, and her growth supplemented with hard physical regimen, Ty Lee's body had begun to acquire the gracefulness of womanhood that tempered her quiet strength. She had always been popular with the boys, but as young women her age were prone to become when they grew more wary of a new and different kind of attention paid to them, her everyday clothing had become increasingly detailed and lost the simplicity it once had during the war. On her days off from duty, Zuko sometimes saw her with her hair free of its efficient but signature braid, allowing brown locks to cascade freely and elegantly down her shoulders. More than once had he caught his palace guards snatching sidelong glances at her whenever they felt no one was looking, much to his exasperation. If Mai was right, the rumors of Ty Lee having three concurrent boyfriends were true, although his wife had also added that Ty Lee was being true to her easygoing nature and wasn't serious about any of them.

It was a great relief to Zuko to see that out of all the children who had grown up in the Fire Nation Palace, there was someone still enjoying the freedoms of their youth.

"Hey, Zuko!" She greeted with enthusiasm that contradicted the darkness under her eyes. "Long day at the office, huh?" She glanced at the crown that laid silently on his desk, reminding him with embarrassment that he had forgotten to put it back on. She smiled as he coughed nervously and tried unsuccessfully to slide it back into his hair discretely.

It wasn't a secret that Ty Lee still thought of all of her friends as just that, her friends. Protocol and court formalities were entirely lost on her, having grown up with the children of the royal family and still being allowed to refer to them by their first names, she found it irrelevant to change her behavior over their new rank and titles. Zuko had found no need to correct this, remembering-among other things-the strict adherence of state etiquette that his father enforced, and quickly found the matter immaterial. Mai, perhaps in a combination of her usual laconic demeanor and a camaraderie forged by their mutual experiences in the war, had readily agreed to leave the subject formally unaddressed.

"Yes, I can't seem to get away these days." Zuko said with a sigh, gesturing casually at the chair in front of his desk, which Ty Lee took appreciatively. "Looks like you're the same way." He said, careful not to directly touch the subject of how exhausted Ty Lee looked. He had only been married a short time, but had immediately learned of how sensitive women were on such topics. All the crowns in the world couldn't have saved him from spending the night on the couch when he had commented on how drained Mai seemed during the planning of their wedding, and the woman had taken it to mean that she had picked an ugly dress, her face was getting wrinkly, she had gotten fat thighs, and that her mother was an elephantine cow.

"Yeah," Ty Lee said timidly. "I had to take the last ferries today. Miyo's been running us ragged all week with the Four Nations Summit coming up, and I couldn't get away until the last minute." She laughed and added cheekily. "But it's not like I have a new young wife worrying me to come home on time or anything."

Zuko felt a faint heat coloring his cheeks, wondering what other details of their marriage Mai had been imparting on her friend. Ty Lee could be a fiery gossip if the mood struck her, and if the Kyoshi Warriors knew something, the entire world knew it as well. "Oh. Yeah. Well." He coughed again, waving at one of the perpetual servants that stood silently waiting by the doors of his study. "Can I get you some tea?"

"Oh yes, please!" Ty Lee nodded excitedly, unknowingly having been successfully detracted from one of her long-winded lectures on the finer points of romance and the importance of keeping romantic partners happy.

He engaged her in light conversation, asking glossy questions about the Kyoshi Warriors, which she returned with earnest replies and recounting humorous stories of her new comrades. Zuko in turn had answered with blanketing statements on how well-he grimaced-the Earth Kingdom summits was going, careful not to commit himself to a singular stance.

In a short while, the servant had returned with a large tray of tea and refreshments, and their conversation halted while they waited for their tea to be poured and small dishes of pastries to be placed out.

"Thanks, Sumi." Ty Lee said cheerily at the young girl, who smiled genuinely in gratitude and bowed to them both before returning to her post at the door. Zuko raised his eyebrows, not in surprise that Ty Lee had come to such familiar terms with one of his servants, but in thought as he wondered exactly how many of the hundreds of servants of the imperial palace she would have befriended by this time. He took a sip of his tea, observing the young girl carefully over the rim of his cup. Although having been schooled in the elegant manners befitting a daughter of noblemen, Ty Lee was unable to cover up the consummate relish with which she bit into an apple pastry.

"Mm, sorry." She simpered apologetically, wiping delicately at her mouth with a lacy napkin. "I haven't eaten all day."

"No, go ahead." Zuko waved a hand dismissively at a tray of tea sandwiches. "I'm only sorry that these meetings have cut into your meal time." He felt a sickening twinge of guilt, knowing fully well how Ty Lee would never refuse him in these ventures, and that he had summarily been taking advantage of her kindness the entire time.

"Oh but I'm happy to do it, you know that, Zuko." Ty Lee's smile was weaker this time, collapsing altogether into a solemn frown when his talk turned to business.

"How was Azula doing today?"

Although Ty Lee had returned to making visits to the Wuhan Asylum religiously since her posting at the Fire Nation, the subject of Azula never failed to visibly darken her mood. People had quickly learned to never bring up the subject of the Fire Nation princess, although it was a topic of intense scrutiny and court gossip behind her back. Zuko knew for a fact that Ty Lee's insistence at being assigned to the contingent in the Imperial City had made many among the Kyoshi Warriors turn an apprehensive eye on her. She had also solidified the animosity within those that pointed out how quickly she was to run from the customs officials and straight to the Wuhan Island ferries, by never speaking of what she had seen or heard from her visits. Zuko himself had listened to the words of his closest political advisors-in addition to his fear-and for the first couple of months of her return had Ty Lee's visits documented to make sure that that her loyalties to his sister did not stretch into the political.

Intelligence gathered had affirmed this and although he had dropped the investigations soon after, it wasn't until last year that he had come to see his sister's incarceration as something besides the imprisonment of his rival to the throne, and his victory over a murderer. His sudden interest in Azula's well being had startled everyone except the young acrobat, who had taken the blessing to heart without query, and their late night deliberations were kept far from prying eyes.

The catalyst of his emotional transformation-his change of heart-was not something he wanted to revisit, and so he had buried it, cremated it in the glowing aches of a funeral pyre.

Ty Lee was quiet, her hunger forgotten as she ran a slender finger around her cup's saucer, her brown eyes glazed in thought. Her brow furrowed, as if remembering something painful, and her mouth opened as she said her next words slowly. "I wanted to ask if you could get the doctors to stop burning the herbs in her room." As she had anticipated, Zuko visibly stiffened and went on before he could outright refuse her. "I know what it's supposed to do for her, but I also see what it's  _not_ doing for her. You have to come see her, Zuko, you need to see what it's making her become!"

Zuko never spoke of what happened on his first, and last, visit to Azula's cell those two years ago. Ty Lee had already developed a habit of abstaining from her curiosities, one that Zuko was grateful for, but knowing that her concern was abated by stifling guilt.

At her defeat, Azula had been raving mad, and even in her bondage she had managed to either seriously injure or maim all of the guards that had been assigned to watch her. Doctors at the asylum had refused to treat or even observe her, and in desperation Zuko had sought out the Avatar's assistance. Aang had been unwilling at first to revoke something so natural and ingrained within the human condition, remarking that actions taken during war did not justify repetitions under peace, and added that Azula was not her father. Unwilling to continue to risk the lives of his men anymore, Zuko had pleaded with the young boy, and Aang soon agreed to see the guards that Azula had crippled. Many of the soldiers had been the sole providers of their families, and as Zuko had calculated, their plight had moved the heart of the still tender and easily impressed monk. That coming night, Zuko had ordered his sister's firebending removed.

Word had reached Ty Lee in a fantastically short amount of time, and it was to the surprise of both boys that the young girl had intercepted their departure to the hospital, and thrown herself at their feet and begged for mercy. Aang, unused to such behavior, was appalled that such self-deprecation would come from one as eternally buoyant and sunny as Ty Lee. Zuko could not have felt any more different, and had regarded the girl with little more than annoyance and suspicion. But her tears had been genuine, striking a chord inside him that he did not wish to contemplate, and it was agreed that if Ty Lee (or anyone) could provide a suitable alternative, that Azula's firebending would be left intact.

At these words, Ty Lee had buried her face in dust-streaked hands, her words muffled against her fingers as if holding the words at bay could forestall what she was putting in motion. "I know a way." Her whisper had been ghostly, as if her treachery could have been spoken by someone else if only she willed it into being.

She helped them to design the iron bands that would lock around Azula's wrists and ankles, revealing the exact points where the metal rivets would dig into skin and bone to imprison key channels of chi flow and to deny the fire any outlet. The heavy iron collar that would dig into the spine at the base of the neck, would cut her chi capacity by half, a failsafe should the prisoner ever escape her primary bonds and the need to overpower her arise. They would be painful-she explained with her eyes downcast and her lower lip between her teeth-Azula's limbs would be heavy in half-paralysis for as long as the bands were in place, but Zuko had counted that as a colossal benefit.

Zuko had personally gone over the schematics with a metallurgist and a blacksmith from the Fire Nation's armory, determined to be done with the task, to put it into the farthest corners of his kingdom, and to be done with it. They had spent weeks bent over forge and anvil, poring over chemical derivatives and anatomy charts, the heat from the furnace filling and consuming the room lest they forget the weight of their task.

Ty Lee and Aang had been there everyday alongside them, floating by themselves in the darkness of the military armory watching disquietly and with foreboding.

"It was the only way." Zuko had heard Ty Lee say once to the Avatar, her face hidden from the light of the molten metals, the pain that wrought her voice as the only thing to distinguish her in the dark. "It would have destroyed her, you know that don't you?"

The taller shadow of Aang had stood solemnly over the distraught girl, completely silent, but nodding to show that he had heard.

"I had to." The voice shook, trying to convince itself. Her head bowed, fighting the tears that threatened to devour her composure. The shape of an orange robe shifted to show that Aang had reached out to envelop Ty Lee in a consolatory gesture. Zuko had to strain his ears to hear the withered words murmured against the airbender's shoulder. "I had to."

Realizing that his mind had wandered too far into the past, Zuko shook himself to readdress the same girl two years later. "Actually no, I was just thinking the same thing." He waved off Ty Lee's astonishment with harsh news. "Azula's not a minor anymore in the eyes of the law. I was able to save her from the tribunals in Ba Sing Se under this argument, but the other nations will want to do something with her now that she's seventeen."

They had been waiting for this, he realized. The moment Azula had turned sixteen, they had stood with bated breath for the axe to fall, for the mobs of Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe citizens to start screaming for Azula's blood.

It had been a topic of fevered deliberation at the first meeting amongst country ambassadors in the months after the war, as to what exactly the world would do with the Fire Nation princess. Countless of division captains had already been placed on the war crimes tribunals in the Earth Kingdom, and executed for the actions of their soldiers. Generals were ordered to withdraw from hard-won territories, colonies were turned back to their native governments, and with Ozai permanently confined, Azula's trial would have been a very lucrative jewel in the crown of justice.

"The Four Nations Summit." Zuko had learned to stop being impressed with Ty Lee's observations; the girl hasn't half as stupid as people thought she was, especially when the Fire Nation princess was involved, and he duly attributed it as a survival instinct she had developed during the war.

He nodded. "Azula's hearing was placed on the agenda yesterday, and I need her acclimated to sobriety for observation."

Ty Lee abruptly placed her tea cup on the table, trying not to broadcast the quivering of her hands, and bravely clasped them in her lap. "A hearing? There's not going to be a trial?"

"No." There were many good reasons Zuko had not pressed for a trial, and agreed instead to his sister's fate being decided by a council of ambassadors and heads of state, led by the Avatar. It ensured that his sister's sanctity as a member of royalty would be upheld, reinforced by Aang's wishes that no person be needlessly executed. The law courts in Ba Sing Se had weighed heavily on his soul, but not even the Avatar was above the politicians and lawyers who represented the wishes of the common people. Zuko was confident that his sister's life would be spared outside the court systems.

Azula's popularity with the Fire Nation military elite was the opposing concern. Zuko was young, but not so stupid as to be unable to see how his favor only stretched as far as the state legislature. His mandate that annexed territories be returned to the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes were fiercely abhorred and alienated entire branches of the infantry and navy from his grasp. Even now, Zuko only controlled the domestic forces, and they were confined to the Imperial City and its close neighbors. It was no secret whom the military figureheads, the generals, marshals, and admirals, would have rather seen on the throne. With this in mind, Zuko was smart to keep Azula from any public domain where politicians-and her freedom-could be bribed and bought.

Courts were a tricky and volatile business, and either result would have been catastrophic to Zuko. He was compassionate, but he wasn't an idiot.

"It'll be easier to defend her this way. Aang will handle her observation report and I have more than enough cases to present." He explained, trying to allay the panic that he saw in Ty Lee's eyes, while simultaneously skirting any assailment of his consciousness by refusing to lie to her and saying as little detail about the topic as possible. "Ty Lee, I  _will_ defend her." To be sure, on this, he was adamant.

"I know." She said quietly. "I just wish we had more time."

Zuko nodded. The summit itself was to be held in a week's time. The relatively short notice of Azula's placement on the conference docket was a calculated and collective effort by the politicians to garner as little resistance and unrest in the city as possible. It was the Fire Lord's personal hope that it would not be a repeat of the protests and riots that ravaged the city streets amid Ozai's trial.

"I wanted to ask if you think Azula is up for it." Zuko said, finally voicing the unease that had plagued him throughout their conversation. In truth, it wouldn't have mattered either way, but it would certainly help his case in convincing Aang that his sister did not deserve to live in a cage her entire life. The young monk was already a believer of second chances, but to convince the panel of Earth Kingdom monarchs and Water Tribe ambassadors, every ounce of self-assurance and conviction on the Avatar's part would be needed.

Slender shoulders sagged as Ty Lee shook her head mournfully. "I have no idea. Some days she doesn't even talk to me, and when she does it's as if I'm not even there at all. Ever since I gave her that flower, she's realized that I'm not a hallucination, but that just made it worse! Who knows what'll happen once the drugs wear off…"

"We'll lower the incense dosages a little at a time." In his mind, Azula stood in a sea of bodies, the blood of his men strewn on the walls, and he unable to reign in the violence. Gore covered her face, running down her neck in shining rivulets of jeweled barbarism, intertwining with the black streams of her hair to frame her hideous smile. Lightning danced from her fingers, exploding towards his body as she screamed for him to end her life. He closed his eyes. "But I can only give you three days until we stop the dosages completely."

Ty Lee seemed lost in her own reverie, oblivious to the nightmare that plagued the young king. "I understand. When is Aang going to come see her?"

"The night before the summit, I expect." Zuko answered honestly, but owing to the nature of the young Avatar, it could have been anytime in between. The day before the conference had been just a strong suggestion.

"I'll remember." She replied dutifully.

Zuko's study had no windows, but from the congealing wax under the candles of his table lamp, a great deal of time had passed since Ty Lee first entered the room. As if sensing Zuko's thoughts, Ty Lee shifted uneasily in her chair, and Zuko took the hint.

"I'm sorry for keeping you so late." He waved at the same servant who had attended them before-what had Ty Lee called her? Sumi?-and moved his hand in a circular gesture over the tabletop, and without a word the girl disappeared. "Your friends must be wondering where you are."

"Not really." Ty Lee said sheepishly, rising from her chair and giving a slight incline of her head to Zuko just to observe the procedure. "Thanks for helping us out, Zuko."

He noticed the "us", but it didn't invoke the same wariness it had over a year ago. He doubted he would ever understand the loyalty and ardent fidelity Ty Lee had towards his sister, but as it was, it suited his purpose so he was not inclined to criticize it. "No, I should be the one thanking you. You're a great friend." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Sumi returning with small paper boxes, and gave a last smile to the young acrobat. "Besides, Azula is my sister after all." Echoing words that were not his own, belonging so far in the past that he wondered why it had such a hold on him now.

He rose to bid her goodnight, allowing Sumi to present Ty Lee with freshly remade sandwiches and pastries for her return home, which the girl accepted cheerfully and gratefully to both of them. Zuko, in that moment, decided that it would do him some good to imitate Ty Lee's kindness as well, and made a note to try to remember his domestic servants' names by the end of the week.

"Ty Lee?" He called out before the girl could reach the door, and admitted to himself that what he was about to ask was a last minute decision. "I know the Kyoshi Warriors are on peace-keeping detail for the summit, but I would like for you to be at the hearing. Do you think that you would be able to do that for me?"

An inexplicable look crossed Ty Lee's soft brown eyes, but before Zuko could discern its origins, it was gone. In its place was an earnest determination, understated and strong. Zuko realized in awe that in this moment she was conceding that what would transpire next would determine the rest of Azula's life, and that for all the failures and debts that kept Ty Lee sleepless and restless in her nights, this day would take the culmination of her sins and betrayals and it could give them the hope of something new and beautiful.

"Yes, I would like that." She whispered, afraid that the promise would break underneath the temerity of her optimism.

Letting out a breath that he hadn't noticed he was holding, the Fire Lord tilted his head in assent. "Good, I'll send word to Suki and Miyo." He watched in quiet admiration as she left and dissolved into the darkness of the palace, the echoes of her footsteps growing farther and smaller, abandoning him to his own thoughts.


	3. Kids

Mari was in big trouble.

She knew it as soon as she had heard the first loathsome crack of splintered wood crashing against lacquered practice armor, and watched in alarm as a gruesome fissure had grown in one of the primary plates of her small wooden fan. She regretted instantly having let her friends convince her to practice the advanced paired forms that one of them had learned earlier that day. Worst of all, she knew that this wouldn't have happened if only she had listened to Miss Suki and polished the bamboo slats everyday with clove oil. Now, one of her training fans had been broken, and she didn't know how to fix it.

Her face pinched up as she began to cry, huge streams of tears running profusely down cheeks flushed with distress. She raised a small fist to scrub desperately at her eyes, completely lost in a tantrum of misery and mortification. Her friends stared at each other, unwilling to abandon her to their plight, of which they were partly responsible, but also dreading the scolding they would receive should they be caught alongside her. Finally, their minds made up in silent unison, they scattered to the far shadows of the compound, deserting Mari to the emptiness of the courtyard.

"I wonder where Nao and Yuri are off to in such a hurry."

Mari froze, recognizing the voice as one of the senior instructors and a member of the core fighting team, fear taking over her young heart as a tall shadow overwhelmed her. With a diminutive hand still pressed against a wet cheek, she looked up at her would-be punisher.

"It wasn't very nice of them to leave you like that." Ty Lee said, kneeling down so that she was face-to-face with the small girl, giving her a reassuring smile. From within the folds of her training uniform, she presented a soft handkerchief, using it to gently wipe away the tears that covered the child's face. "Friends are supposed to stick together, you know."

The relief that flooded Mari's heart gave her the composure to steel herself from crying any more. Ty Lee was her favorite instructor, and she was comforted knowing that it had been she to discover her in such a state, and not one of the more draconic and frightening instructors like Miyo. "I-I broke it." She hiccupped, producing the broken wooden fan and holding it up for inspection. "I didn't oil it." She admitted bravely.

Ty Lee took the weapon into her hands, scrutinizing the ugly fracture with a critical eye. "Hmm, I see." She made sure to keep her voice light and springy, as she always did when dealing with junior students and children like Mari. "Well let's just see what we can do about that."

Grasping the small girl's hand gently in her own, Ty Lee led them from the floor of the courtyard and towards a stone bench, where the former acrobat produced a pouch from her belt. With great dexterity born from her own years of training, Ty Lee expertly deconstructed the wooden weapon, replacing the affected bamboo slat with a fresh one, before securing the ties and pins back in place. Using oil from a modest-looking vial, she smeared its contents on a scrap of polishing cloth and dutifully bathed the naked wood with the solvent. Shaking off the excess liquid, she snapped the fan closed and open experimentally, deeming the operation a success. Noticing Mari's anxious expression, she fanned herself cheerfully as an afterthought, her face a picture of mock exhaustion as if warding off some invisible wave of heat, eliciting a satisfactory giggle from the child.

"There, no harm done!" She concluded with a hearty smile, returning the instrument, which Mari took with great appreciation and clutched to her chest protectively. "You won't forget the oil anymore, will you?" Reaching out with delicate fingers, she tousled the girl's hair playfully.

"Nope, I promise I won't, Miss Ty Lee!" Mari swore whole-heartedly through mussed hair strands, her face beaming with admiration for her savior.

"Great! It'll be our little secret, then." The young woman said agreeably, with a gentle pat on Mari's back. "Now, go find your friends."

The girl needed no further encouragement, and hopped off the bench. "Thank you, Miss Ty Lee!" She bowed at the waist in a militaristic fashion, like she had been trained, her movements controlled and awkward. The way that it contradicted her adoration and the irrefutable elation that poured from her in waves wasn't lost on the woman, drawing a burst of laughter from her throat as she watched the young girl scamper off in the direction she had last seen her friends disappear.

She peered after her, thoughtfully, remembering something old and ancient and so ethereal that it was sure to shatter if she tried to give it a name. She loved children, especially the smaller ones. She loved watching them play in the school courtyards after practice, their faces so bright and open, and the bravery of their enterprises that could not be yet called careless or naïve. They instilled in her a gentle wistfulness, a reminder that kept her grounded as the world swept around her, blowing too fast in the settling dust of the war.

With a sigh, she lied herself flat against the stone bench, alone now except for the echoes of laughter from the playing children. Blinking against the brightness of the sun, she pressed the back of her hand across her face, looking up at the blue of the summer sky through her fingers. Throwing her other arm across her abdomen, she closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the rays of warmth against her face. Really, it was such a nice day, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it.

She decided that when this was all over, she was going to take Azula out on a picnic.

It had scared her when she had first seen the princess, caged and incoherent with violence, fuming in the deepest dungeons of a remote mental asylum and roaring her rage in the emptiness of a black pit. She had seemed like a demon at the time, screaming and cursing Ty Lee for her treason and her treachery. It hadn't been the insults-that she was used to-but the look in the golden eyes that stared back at her. She had been prepared for the relentless swearing and violent ravings, but she hadn't been prepared for how much it  _hurt_. It was like watching a cornered, dying animal as the last remnants of its life were eaten away, knowing that its death had been hastened by her own hand.

It was true that she used to fear Azula, but in that moment the princess had looked so small to her, so young, and not the descendent of a line of great and powerful rulers, but a girl. Of all things about Azula, Ty Lee remembered her as a girl. She remembered her in the light of their childhood, precocious and assured, frustrated at the price of perfection and eternally running, chasing the sun-the halo of her father's crown.

It must have been how tiny she looked in the vastness of the shadows that made Ty Lee forget her fear. It couldn't have been anything else, except for the knowledge that somehow this oppressive and terrible war that drove them apart could be thrown off with her bare hands, her conviction that they could rise above their circumstances and return to their place in her illuminated memories.

"She's kind of like you, I think."

"What?!" Ty Lee yelped in alarm, the calm atmosphere of her meditation forgotten as she sat up to confront the intruder. With great embarrassment, she found herself staring into the astonished blue eyes of her captain.

Suki blinked, surprised at the jarring reaction of the younger girl, and noted the dark circles that besotted normally clear and alert eyes. "You know, Mari? I'm sorry, were you sleeping?" Concern lines her voice as she watched the younger girl carefully, her duty as a leader preventing her from approaching Ty Lee with anything besides genuine care and benevolence and the acrobat's heart pained as it remembered Azula again.

"Oh, no." Ty Lee smiled, laughing to hide her awkwardness as she rubbed her eyes with the back of her hands to chase away the vestiges of nostalgia. "Sorry, I was trying to remember something."

"I'm sorry I disturbed you." The older girl said quietly, moving to sit next to her, gently studying the morose quality of the silence that fell over them. She had only returned to the Fire Nation capital a couple of days before-alongside Sokka and Aang-to centralize the Kyoshi Warriors in the wake of the prominent international negotiations that were to take place, and yet she had seen only traces of the happy and bright young girl she remembered Ty Lee to always be. It troubled Suki, knowing that she had witnessed the seeds of such unhappiness sown when the girl had departed to Kyoshi Island for a year of principle training, her homesickness seeming to only feed her restlessness. It worried her still more to know that she did not have the ability to address it. "It seemed important." She grimaced, appalled by her failure to ply the somber air around them, wishing desperately that she possessed Ty Lee's gift of levity.

Ty Lee replied with a dismissive wave, eager to dispel the notion. "No way! I'm just, you know," She moved her hand in an airy fashion about her head. "Being me. Don't worry about it." She smiled inconsequentially at the disbelieving look on Suki gave her, and rose from her seat to move to where she had seen Mari disappear, indicating that she was wished to speak no more.

Suki watched grimly as Ty Lee walked from the courtyard into the direction of the gardens, observing that while the Fire Nation girl had always been one to hide behind flawless smiles, it was quite another for her to resort to running away. Glowering at the girl's retreating back, she chewed her lip in hurried calculation, knowing that her obligation as her superior and her friend could not easily let this die.

She had never been convinced that Ty Lee was half as stupid as people thought she was. One did not grow up (and survive) in Fire Nation nobility and live to tell about it by subjecting themselves mindlessly to the political games of those around them. One needed cunning and power, or the perception to find someone who possessed it in abundance and the acumen to earn their favor. Suki knew exactly where Ty Lee fell on this spectrum, but if she had thought that this was the sole characteristic of Ty Lee's loyalties, she would never have allowed her membership among the Kyoshi Warriors. As it stood, Ty Lee had possessed another vital trait, one that Suki valued more than the ungrounded gossip of infinite Earth Kingdom girls, an unfailing loyalty to those she devoted herself to.

Many outsiders had assumed that Ty Lee's inability to hide her continued dedication to Princess Azula had deeply hurt her relations with her Earth Kingdom companions, and while Suki couldn't deny that there were a number of her warriors who had flat out refused to serve in the same squad as Ty Lee, she was also unwilling to surrender the girl to the petty prejudices of those around her. Of course it worried her, how Suki could never be sure of how much of Azula's hold remained on the young recruit, but it would have worried her still more if Ty Lee had turned her back on the Fire Nation without so much as a backward glance. If Ty Lee remained this anxious over a tyrannical sociopath, Suki wondered what kind of depths she could achieve with a relationship amongst respectful, caring peers.

With purpose, she strode to follow the other girl into the garden. She found Ty Lee leaning against one of the building's many stone pillars, watching the playful antics of the school's children. Suki watched with amusement as Mari took notice of her presence with alarm, her bright eyes darting between Ty Lee and the Kyoshi leader, before settling on the comforting smile and wave from the braided woman. Suitably reassured, the little girl returned to playing amongst the flowers, stirring a shared laugh between the two women.

"They're really…" Ty Lee trailed off as she watched one of the girls detach herself from the main group of children playing in the field, and approach Mari abashedly, with a large rubber ball. Her head bowed, the new girl presented the ball in front of her, a obvious gift of her remorse and an offer of truce. "Cute." She finished, recognizing the girl as Nao, one of the children who had abandoned Mari earlier, and her heart swelled with joy for her student as they clasped hands in reconciliation.

Suki wasn't one to disagree, as she observed Ty Lee with pride. In her travels during the war, she had become increasingly aware of how well off most Earth Kingdom provinces and countries were, in comparison with the significantly less developed Kyoshi Islands. Their isolation had brought many benefits, the development of technology and a standard of living that matched the rest of the world, not being among them. Their ranks having significantly grown in the years after the war, the Kyoshi Warriors were then in a position to substantially change the conditions of their homeland. The respective squads all earned money from peacekeeping assignments from differing governments, but Suki had an extra incentive in installing stationary patrols that operated schools for girls. While the fees they collected from families were too small to amount to any large help in revenue, their assistance in structuring welfare systems earned them large government stipends from the Fire Nation and Be Sing Se, in addition to helping out impoverished communities where the girls would have ended up in brothels or worse.

Ty Lee had easily been recognizable as one of Suki's best instructors, and to no one's surprise, the favorite of the children. They reveled in the ingenuity and excitement of her acrobatic drills, and delighted her supervision in their sparring exercises, and it often the duty fell on her to baby-sit the girls in the afternoon before classes, as Suki found her now.

"I actually need to talk to you about something, Ty Lee." Suki said quietly. "It's about the summit."

Ty Lee's brow knit together as she turned to her captain. "Did something come up? I thought that it'd be ok since everyone's back in town." Her chest tightened as her eyes flew over Suki's face in panic. The offer Zuko had given her had been a monumental gift.

"No, no, it's not that." Suki replied quickly, shaking her head. "Well something did come up, just nothing that would make you not go. You can go. You  _should_ go. I mean, it's good that you can go." She winced and struggled not to slap a hand to her face at how idiotic she sounded at the moment, and tried not to feel bad. The topic of Azula would send anyone into a gibbering mess, she was sure.

Anyone except Ty Lee, who continued to look at her, completely baffled at Suki's uncharacteristic awkwardness.

"I heard from the Fire Lord this morning," Suki admitted with a sigh. "And it sounded kind of strange so I wanted to see if you knew anything about what's happening." She paused, not sure what this was going to sound like to the other girl. "He asked if I would attend, if I would represent Kyoshi Island."

Ty Lee continued to be confused. "That doesn't sound so strange to me." She replied honestly, her voice becoming breezy in thoughtful reflection. "I mean, Kyoshi Island is still part of the Earth Kingdom, so why not?"

"Kyoshi Island has no political weight or machination." It saddened her, but it was true, and Suki wasn't blind to how outsiders perceived Kyoshi Island as nothing beyond a group of villages led by dried up old men who couldn't see beyond the boundaries of their shores. Their initial neutrality hadn't done much to earn them friends at the negotiation table, and in the end it had fallen to the Earth King to make the appeals for them. "And I am no politician, I'm the leader of a self-defense task force."

"So what do you think is going to happen?" Ty Lee tilted her head to the side, wishing for the ability to see the concerns that Suki was raising. She seriously doubted that Zuko meant them any harm in inviting Suki to the summit as well, and wrote it off as a mere formality. He had been kind to her (and Azula) so far, and so the gesture failed to arouse overwhelming concerns. She also couldn't deny that her mind had also been elsewhere of late.

"He's planning something." If there was one thing Suki had learned about the siblings of the Fire Nation Royal Family, it was that neither of them had ever done anything seemingly unimportant without it having severe ramifications on everyone else, and the apprehension made her stomach grow cold. "And I can't figure out what it is."

Ty Lee was silent, knowing that in all likeliness what Suki was trying was true. She never had any aptitude in seeing through what people wanted from her and deciding for herself where her priorities lay, and the case was definitely true in the realm of politics. People could (and did) say many things about Azula, and the "perverse" nature of their friendship (she didn't care about what they thought anyways), but Ty Lee knew that in her own sick and unintentional way, Azula had protected her from needing to, and now Ty Lee was floundering.

She wasn't a  _complete_ idiot. She knew that Zuko's sudden change of heart regarding his sister hadn't been from his own benevolence. In the beginning, he had been wary of Azula's madness, going as far as to ask Aang to take the princess' fire bending, unable to see through the injuries and pains dealt to him that without her fire, Azula would not have survived her own hell. Or worse, he had known exactly what it would have done, and made it a calculated action, but Ty Lee chose not to think about that idea too much.

One year ago, the Fire Nation had finally uncovered the location of the Queen Mother, Princess Ursa. Zuko had been rapturous, and couldn't get the Royal Fleet ready fast enough. She had been banished to a backwater Earth Kingdom under a false identity, simultaneously protecting her from would-be assassinators and obscuring her from rediscovery. It had only been through the fevered obsession of Zuko and the diligence of an intelligence-gathering force that the secret had been unearthed, and with joyous excitement, he had departed to bring his mother home. Of course (she's learned), that things never turn out that way you plan them, but the only distinct thing that she remembered of the week that Zuko's ships docked in the harbor, was the frozen look on his face as he marched down the barge's causeway, the unmistakable shape of the covered bundle in his arms silencing the welcoming procession. Ty Lee had spent the rest of the day in the darkness of a dungeon, staring in dumbness at an impassive psychotic, unable to tell Azula that her mother was dead.

That month, Zuko had summoned Ty Lee to his study in the dead of the night, and without an explanatory word had begun to coordinate regular meetings with her regarding the health of his sister. No, she didn't consider herself especially sharp, but even she could fit the pieces together, that Zuko was not acting on kindness, but out of overriding and devastating guilt. At the beginning, they had disagreed on a great deal of things, until they came to learn the others' boundaries. Yet, they remained united in that until her sanity was recovered, Azula could not learn of Ursa's demise.

"Do you have any idea what he could be planning?"

Ty Lee shrugged her shoulders, wishing for the astuteness that seemed to come so easily to everyone else, wishing that she could see through her own personal desires. "I kinda wish I did." She rubbed her eyes again, trying to will life into their sleepiness. "But I can't think of anything. He's been really good to us, Suki." The Kyoshi Warriors  _and_ Azula, she thought forlornly. "I just don't think that he'd be planning something awful or anything."

This was true as well, the Kyoshi leader admitted. Perhaps her years at war had made her paranoid and this was nothing more than her own weaknesses showing. Zuko was many things, but he wasn't underhanded or ruthless, and Suki would do well to distinguish the characteristics of the siblings of the Fire Nation's Royal Family.

"Maybe you're right." Suki relented, hoping that her sinking notions of distrust would escape her chest with the breath of her words. "Maybe I'm over thinking this." It didn't, and neither girl appeared convinced.

For the first time that day, Suki saw a glimmer of Ty Lee's old enthusiasm and sparkle, as the acrobat reached out to take her hand and squeeze it comfortingly. Her smile, still tired, was no less genuine.

"Hey, don't worry about it! Whatever happens we'll stick by each other." Suki must have looked like she needed some more consoling, because she felt herself being pulled into one of Ty Lee's signature, cheerful and seemingly arbitrary hugs.

With a relieved laugh, Suki embraced her in return, patting a hand to the other girl's back. "Thanks, Ty Lee." She had a sneaking suspicion that Ty Lee had wanted a hug too, and was happy to oblige.

They continued to watch the children in amicable silence, each girl taking the rare opportunity at peaceful stillness with relish, knowing that it wouldn't be long before it would be broken and they would be moving again, flowing with the current of the changing world.

Ty Lee mused how as they stood shoulder to shoulder, the conditions that brought them here could not have been anymore different, although they were in many respects, the same. They had been limbs to polarizing forces, movements that until the very end, had clashed against each other, and the knowledge made her smile sadly.

"Have you been sleeping?" Suki asked, already knowing the answer, but finding more mystery in how Ty Lee would respond. "You looked tired earlier."

"Well, it's been busy the past couple of days." Ty Lee replied with a helpless shrug, anxious to move on to a different topic, knowing that Suki would never let it stand should she fall asleep during one of the classes or-spirits forbid-collapse during drills. She doubted it would go that far, she wasn't  _that_ tired, but discussing her exhausted physical condition with her superior was something that struck her as completely unacceptable.

She knew that perhaps, she should have tried to get a few hours of rest in last night, after her visit to the imperial palace. But the talk with Zuko had been different from all the previous ones, she had sensed it. In the end, when she had returned to the Kyoshi compound, she had spent the entire night in the dining hall, nibbling listlessly at the snacks Zuko had given her, waiting for the sun to peak in through the slats of the windows. Before the bell for morning drills had rung, she had swiftly returned to the barracks, as if nothing had been out of the ordinary, and rose from the bunks with the rest of her comrades.

"I don't want you passing out during marching drills." Suki said in half-jest, letting the faux playfulness linger on her smiling lips.

Ty Lee laughed. "I won't!"

Her mind remained elsewhere, both waiting for and dreading the trip she would take tonight to the ship port, where she would board the ferry to Wuhan Island, and walk the familiar monotonous halls of the hospital to the same cell. She had kept this nightly vigil for the better part of a year, her routine as unchanging as her interactions with the caged princess.

Only this time, for the first time in two years, Azula would be lucid, and there would be nothing to suppress what was sure to come.

It would be different from now on, the endless colorlessness of her visits would be broken with something new, something vibrant. The knowledge excited her, overpowering the sense of fear that had been so inherent to her self-preservation. It was as if along with Azula's awakening, a small part of the acrobat could begin to breathe life as well.

A sudden flurry of motion and activity in the corner of the compound roused both women from their conversation, and Ty Lee turned to see her squad captain, Miyo, emerging from the veranda and hurrying over to where they stood. The commotion had been caused by the noticeable distress to which the children taken to at the officer's presence. Miyo was a serious girl who had assumed the burden of her post with great weight and responsibility, inadvertently earning quite a fearsome reputation among the children as being an austere teacher and among the other Kyoshi Warriors as a formidable fighter and leader. She and Ty Lee had gotten along famously since the acrobat had returned to the Fire Nation, and the surprise of their fellow warriors was something Ty Lee couldn't understand.

Suki's eyebrows knit together at Miyo's uncharacteristic behavior, but Ty Lee couldn't help but giggle as Miyo rushed towards them, dodging waist-high children as they barreled around her, the absolute confusion in how to deal with them marring the captain's otherwise composed face.

"Hey Miyo, where's the fire?" Suki teased as the girl stumbled the final steps towards them, trying not to trip over an especially perturbed child.

"Yeah, you look more frazzled than a sea-moose out to pasture in the wintertime!" Ty Lee chirped. She looked worriedly at the twin stares of bewilderment that gazed back at her. "What?"

Suki hid her face with the palm of her hand, reminding herself to do a public duty and smack her boyfriend a good one should he ever decide to entertain Ty Lee with his asinine jokes ever again.

"I apologize, but I was told to report with due haste." Miyo shook her head, still mystified, but eager to relay her message. "Sokka's here and he brought the Avatar with him." She said, referring to the regular visits Sokka made to Suki's Fire Nation headquarters whenever the girl was in town, but equally stunned as her companions concerning the presence of the Avatar.

Suki balked, failing to see how this amounted to urgent business. Although she did remember the incident last autumn at the Harvest Festival in the Earth Kingdom when both boys had gotten dangerously bored at the opening ceremonies and resorted to the "quality inspection" of all the pies and ales made for the night-time celebration. That had been pretty dangerous-she admitted-and would definitely count as a danger to national security by the sheer outrage from Katara alone.

"I was told by the Avatar that Ty Lee would understand, and that he awaits her at the ship ports." Miyo finished, watching Suki's face grow pensive and Ty Lee's mood turn grave. The mention of the Wuhan ferry was like a beacon, and she questioned the Avatar's wisdom in divulging such information in such a public place as the Kyoshi compound's foyer. He might as well have strolled into the market and yelled it for all to hear.

"When?" Ty Lee asked, her mind scrambling. Zuko had specifically told her last night that Aang would most likely call on her in a week's time, and she had certainly not anticipated the Avatar showing up the next afternoon. She had planned on visiting Azula first as she always had, alone and with careful deliberation, to figure exactly how she would appeal to the Avatar for leniency in his report to the ambassadors. As it was, it would be almost impossible to preempt any harmful predispositions he would carry if she herself did not know how Azula's condition would appear in the absence of sedatives.

"He left shortly after I was sent to find you." Miyo crossed her arms over her chest. "I would think now."

"Now?!" Ty Lee blurted in unhinged alarm. Her eyes flittered desperately from the regiment captain to the Kyoshi leader, as if either girl could have done something to save her from her predicament.

Suki remembered how she had found Ty Lee that afternoon, exhausted and overpowered, unable to find rest, and she didn't need the mention of the ship ports to confirm her suspicions. Aang's appearance after she had received the Fire Lord's message this morning spoke volumes, and it was apparent that this went beyond the usual moodiness that Ty Lee was sometimes prone to get after her hospital visitations. Suki fears returned, the ones that spoke that something was stirring around them, and that they were blind and powerless to stop it.

"It's ok, I'll get someone to cover your afternoon classes." Suki said, reaching out a hand to pat delicately at Ty Lee's shoulder, ignoring the perplexed look from Miyo. "Take the rest of the day off."

"Oh, Suki, could I really?" Her voice had lost the bubbly air that it held previously, replaced with a heartfelt gratitude that still felt heavy and cumbersome. Encouraged by Suki's brave smile and a nod of confirmation, she launched herself into the other girl's arms again, trying to gather strength from what she knew to be the last traces of friendly affection she would feel in a long while.

Laughing again, Suki patted Ty Lee's back, albeit awkwardly at Miyo's smirk. She privately hoped that one day Ty Lee would try giving Miyo a hug. The look that was sure to come on the captain's face was bound to be priceless. "You should hurry and get changed before you go. You don't want to make Aang wait too long, right?"

"Right." Ty Lee nodded as she pulled back, fortifying herself. She was tired, and she knew that it had less to do with the hours of her sleep and more from knowing that the tempestuous nature surrounding Azula's fate would soon solidify. The hours of the night had only been devoted to her inability to reconcile what she owed to the Kyoshi Warriors and what she owed to Azula.

But she had already decided long ago. She had decided when the crown of the Fire Nation was first slipped into Zuko's hair to the cheering voice of thousands, when the bars had slid shut to the shrill and desperate cry of one, and when Ty Lee had found herself standing on the shores of a distant land so far from home and where she belonged. She had decided with the last fall of the blacksmith's hammer, the sight of a bloodied young king returning from a timeless dungeon, and with the giving of a flower left on cold cobbled stones, she had pledged an undying promise of  _this moment and all the ones that come after…_

When she turned to leave, rushing towards the barracks, she was not approaching anything besides a vow, her own hope that she could absolve her sins, and the atonement that one might find in the shouldering of a friend's torment.


	4. Some Remedies Worse Than The Disease

She had dressed with furious speed, throwing off her training uniform as fast as she could untie the laces and fold them into her footlocker. Uncharacteristically putting on whatever civilian clothing she had reached for first, and kicking the trunk underneath her bed, she had stormed out in a whirlwind of florid activity, leaving her confused and perplexed squad mates calling after her.

She left the Kyoshi's housing compound, still pulling on her shoes as she stumbled into the street. It was the waning hours of noon, and Ty Lee was glad that that traffic was almost non-existent as she slid herself through the small alleyways. Her heart was pounding hard against her chest as she sprinted the last stretch to the main road, the blood roaring in her ears that said  _this is it, this is it, this is it._

She continued to run, despite knowing that the city ports were a good measure of miles away and that Aang was there, waiting patiently for her. But she could not shake the sense of foreboding and insistency that sat beneath her stomach and urged her legs onward, driving her faster and faster.

When she reached the ferry dock, she was vaguely aware of how hard her breath is coming, and the knowing smile from Aang made her wince and give a bashful smile. She hasn't seen him since the very early morning, when he had left for the Imperial Palace, and Ty Lee had watched him go from the tall windows of the barracks with grim understanding. She wanted very much to grasp the concept that within such a short time so much had changed and that the understanding she had before was not the same as the abandonment she felt now.

"Hey Ty Lee! Wow, you sure got here fast. Did you run the whole way?" He said as he tilts his head, still light-hearted and nonchalant and she wonders how in the face of everything he can still be so youthful and make her feel so old.

"No. Sorry." She lied as she held up a delicate hand, her other placed heavily at the peak of one of her bent knees, realizing that she had run far harder than she had intended. Had she really? She smiled hopelessly as Aang waited cheerfully without complaint for her to regain her breath.

Aang's still wears the orange robes of the air benders, the remade glider staff still ever-present in his hand. He was fifteen now, still all limbs and pointy elbows, and had shot past all of them in height-even Zuko, who had inherited his father's built. The sharpness of Aang's body was tempered by the broadness of his shoulders and the softness of his eyes. She's noticed that Suki had the same quality to her eyes as well, the same gentleness, and Ty Lee wondered where it came from, how one was able to obtain it and where it went once it was gone.

She wondered if it came with victory, and so she wondered now if she had ever had that same character and that it had only disappeared in the dying embers of the war. She wondered if Zuko thought of the same thing as he sat in his lonely study, or even Mai who had traded one monotony for another. She wonders, especially now, what Azula thinks of as she stares from her cell window and into the open sea.

"Sorry." Ty Lee repeated, straightening up once she feels rested enough to continue. Her smile is back on and she pats imaginary dust from the length of her dress. "I didn't expect you so soon, so I guess I kinda rushed here." Her voice still windy and tired, she rubs the back of her head in a somewhat abashed gesture.

"No problem, it was my fault." Aang shrugged, his staff tapping against the ground as his shoulders rose and fell. "I should have told you earlier but one of my meetings ran over and I have another one later on tonight…" He seemed genuinely ashamed, as if he could have done something to avert the causes. "You look pretty busy yourself."

He was referring to the worrying twin circles of fatigue that marred the young girl's otherwise impeccable appearance. It struck sharply against the deepness of Ty Lee's brown eyes, underlining usually clear and enthusiastic pools of zeal.

"It's ok, Aang." Ty Lee says, oblivious to Aang's concern, trying her best to show him that she didn't mind. It was too soon, she wanted to say, too soon for Azula to see anyone beyond herself. But it was hopeless, there was no way to say anything to that effect without putting an irreparable mark on Azula's observation report. "But um…why today? I thought the summit isn't until later this week."

Aang smiled again, wondering how to tell the young girl that it wasn't as she was suspecting and that he wasn't her enemy in this, and more importantly, if she would even believe him. He was happy to discover that what everyone said continued to be true: Ty Lee had no talent in hiding her emotions, and her feelings wore on her face with clarity and earnestness. It lightened his heart considerably.

Of course he had seen this in the immediate moments after the war, as he watched Ty Lee slide in so naturally with the Kyoshi Warriors, the happiness of finding new friends and a new home sweetening her personal measure of victory. It was the same with him, with all of them. They had stopped wandering, sleeping in thread-bare tents, going without enough to eat, and fighting for their lives. Instead, they had chosen to bet everything in a single moment, to prove that they had mattered, and that the world they were fighting for was significant and real.

Zuko had fought for his own destiny, Mai had fought for love, and Azula had fought for glory, her heritage, and the power that comes in one's excellence in battle. They each had possessed an image of the world after the war, and tried to destroy each other for its reality. Aang himself had perceived a world of peace, where there was no single ruler besides the wishes of the people and the tools of diplomacy, and he had largely been lucky for the sheer survival of his scruples in the achievement of that world.

But no one could perceive what Ty Lee had fought for, although she had sacrificed much, and if the world she had fought for had ever materialized.

Zuko had told him many times how he and Azula weren't so different-being the descendents of Ozai-and that if he had possessed Azula's ability for astute, cold calculation, and gift at military strategy, things could have turned out very different for both of them. Aang couldn't have disagreed more, but was content to remain quiet when he saw the Fire Lord turn away and grow silent.

"I thought it would helpful." Aang replied honestly. "I didn't think showing up for just one day would be practical for anyone." He thought to the report he was supposed to submit to a join committee of national ambassadors, counterweighted by the obligation he had to his friends, a distant king and the girl who stood in front of him, whose heavy burdens rested on the coming moments of the day.

Ty Lee didn't look convinced by his words, but nodded. She shifted her gaze from the young Avatar to the far end of the harbor, looking for the ferry that would take them to Wuhan. These docks was small in comparison to the others that dotted the line of the huge harbor, it wasn't too long ago that this port was a bustling hub of commercial activity, where ships from distant lands and boats from local merchants docked here to sell their wares to the nearby market. But those times were different, and the Fire Nation had been flourishing under the riches of their victorious battles, and not suffering under the treaties of war reparations that drained the country's finances into the Earth Kingdom.

It was quiet now; the pier was bereft of any dockworkers at this hour, and they were alone except for a few fishermen in their small boats and those who were cleaning the aging hulls of their ships. The shadows of the ghostly ships and barges had grown longer, and Ty Lee was reminded that this would be the first time she took a trip to the hospital during daylight.

"Should we head to the ferry now?" She asked nervously, catching sight of a tall and familiar military boat that stood ominously at a corner of the pier. The ferry to Wuhan Island had very little passengers, barring the security personnel who guarded the island and the doctors who operated the mental hospital, and so its timetable was sparse and the intervals between trips were long. Although she had studied the night schedule to the point of memorization, she could not recall the day schedule and the thought made her uneasy.

Seeing the anxiety of his companion, Aang obliged by nodding and letting the older girl lead him to where the ferry was.

The trip to the island was peaceful, giving time for the two friends to chat glacially over trifling topics, such as how Katara was doing as the new Water Tribe ambassador, and if Ty Lee ever missed living in her family's estate as opposed to the barracks of the Kyoshi Warriors. Aang had talked positively on the first subject, elated that Katara had found a calling that played to her compassion in those less fortunate, as well as her tenacity in the face of those who would misjudge her. Ty Lee had teased the young boy, commenting on his luck that the job also provided a much cherished advantage of being closed to a loved one, and giggled at the blush that tinged his cheeks. On the second issue, Ty Lee had only smiled wryly, her eyes turned towards the sea and the waves that rose and fell and carried them closer to the growing mass of land on the horizon. Her parents hadn't called on her in a long time and she knew that their familial circumstances wouldn't change for many years to come, not after her public support of the disgraced princess had nearly driven the family into political and financial ruin. They hadn't been particularly close anyways, she'd explained to Aang, uncomfortable with the pity that she saw in his eyes. Fire Nation families did things differently, she theorized, and maybe families meant more if one found a company of people whose love was worthy to be earned, rather than accepting those that came with bloodlines. This answer seemed to have satisfied the Avatar, who nodded encouragingly at her in return, and she thought that maybe he was thinking about Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors.

The time passed with the smooth swells of the ocean, as the two friends sat towards the open sea. The ferryman, who had grown casual and friendly with Ty Lee in her daily visits over the years, came down momentarily from his post when the sailing grew calm and served them meager (but appreciated) cups of hot tea to soothe them against the chilly sea mist.

"It's beautiful." The airbender said with a deep breath, watching the lowering sun glinting through the fog and across the mirror of the water. It was a reminder of the dying summer, and he felt a tinge of regret that he hadn't been able to spend more time in the Imperial City. He had come to discover in this travels that Fire Nation summers were among the most beautiful of the world's seasons.

"Yup." Ty Lee agreed, bringing her tea cup to her lips with both hands as she warmed her fingers against the hot ceramic.

"I can see why you love it here." He continued, marveling at the peace of the ocean.

"It's lovely, isn't it?" The girl replied agreeably, wondering if she had changed so much that the novelty of the waves and sky were long faded and it was only through the youthful outlook of a fifteen-year-old that saved her vision from blindness.

They didn't speak of their coming task, and especially not of Azula. Ty Lee knew that it would have been prudent to try to prepare-to try to warn-Aang of what was sure to come in the hospital. However, he was bound to already have some idea, and no doubt the asylum's staff were ready to brief the young boy on its protocols, and it could have been her nerves, her fear, or her inability to face them that kept her peace.

When they reached Wuhan's pier, Aang was taken by how small the island was. Perhaps he had been unrealistic in his imaginings, but it seemed like Wuhan Island amounted to only a single block of building on top of a mound of land only a couple of miles in length, sitting in the vastness of the water. The soil was barren and rocky, and with no vegetation to speak of, so that he could see the entire expanse of the island from the pier to the opposite shore with ease. Wuhan was desolate and small, he thought, and housed the world's most dangerous political prisoner, as well as its nations' greatest disappointment.

They bid a polite and temporary farewell to the ferryman, leaving the waterfront to follow the rugged path towards the gray shape of the distant hospital. When they arrived, they found themselves at the front of a large iron gateway, staring into an open courtyard that was rife with guards and ferocious looking patrol dogs. The sight was surprising to Ty Lee, who was used to seeing the façade of the hospital devoid of human activity, and the sudden escalation in security was alarming. Her heart clenched as she pondered the countless of reasons Zuko could have done this for.

Surely, he couldn't think Azula still amounted to this much danger.

"A bit intimidating for a hospital." Aang said dubiously, unknowingly agreeing with Ty Lee's thoughts, his eyes scaling the tall walls of the sanatorium.

"It's not usually like this." Ty Lee said, approaching the iron grate. She cleared her throat, not really caring what the guards would have thought about a skinny little arm waving itself through the giant door. "Hey, can someone open the door? The Avatar is here, you know?"

Aang was sure that of all the heralds he had received in his diplomatic service, this one was the most apt and the most fun. The guards all stopped what they had been doing, glancing from the unassuming-looking young girl to each other, unsure of what to make of the impromptu message. Stepping forward from the eaves of the walls, Aang made sure that they could see his orange robes and the blue lines of his tattoos.

"Hey guys!" He said cheerily, smiling as they gave a start and simultaneously began yelling to towards the gatehouse. Ty Lee slipped out her arm and almost instantly, there was a grinding lurch of heavy metal as the gates were drawn sideways. It sort of had a dramatic effect, Aang mused, as they stepped into the hospital's open terrace.

The guards had fallen into lines of attention, marking the wrought stone path that led to dual standing doors at the center of the building. One of the guards had detached himself from the formation to salute smartly at the Avatar, and bowed politely to Ty Lee.

"My humblest apologies." He said, his words clipped and short with military discipline. "There has been a miscommunication. We had not been expecting your honorable presence until much later in the week." He bowed again, this time very low as if in a personal apology. With the amount of respect that he was showing the Avatar, Ty Lee could tell that he belonged to a very young army corps, recently formed in Zuko's new regime, where the eradication of nationalistic military education had come easier to some than to the battalions who had fought in the war.

"No problem…" Aang took a quick look at the soldier's uniform and noted the patch that decorated the side of the man's shoulder armor. "Lieutenant." He finished happily, and bowed in return. "Actually I didn't really tell anyone I was coming today. I just thought it'd be nice."

The lieutenant raised his eyebrows at this, and Ty Lee was unable to hide her own expression of surprise. His reason for coming had been so…weak, insubstantial even. It seemed so laughable within the context of what they were facing that Ty Lee hadn't lent it the weight of seriousness. Part of her was relieved, knowing that his appearance wasn't under the guiding hand of Zuko, and that Suki's words were merely needless warnings. The other half of her was fearful that Aang has seen his own priorities, his own stake, and had come to cement the demise of his would-be murderer, but Ty Lee was certain that had been her paranoia speaking.

"Very good, sir." The soldier nodded and gestured with an armored hand past his lines of sentries to the hospital doors. "You will find Doctor Han and his associates past there."

"Thank you." Ty Lee said quickly, trying her hardest to speed up the pointless pleasantries without showing impoliteness. However, try as she might, all she could think of at the moment was how hard she wanted to get this all over with.

She didn't need anyone to show her the way. After a curt goodbye to the officer, she hurried past the columns of soldiers, indicating in her stiff haste that Aang should follow.

Pushing aside the heavy doors, she stood motionless in the hallways, breathing in the harsh and overpowering combination of disinfectant and medicinal herbs. It was too dramatic to say that she hated the smell, because it had become so familiar, but it was a stretch to say that it no longer bothered her. She knew that this place would always bother her, if not from the fact that her former best friend was imprisoned here, but from the sheer  _wrongness_ that permeated from its walls.

The structure of Wuhan Asylum was impressive, with its mighty stone walls that stood high and true, and from any vantage point on the outside it was a proud looking hospital that stood lone and illustrious on its island. But Wuhan had a history, from its solitary position as being the only mental health facility in its municipality, and until Zuko's office, the state of the country's public health research and facilities was abysmally under-funded.

Many people have died here. Patients died here everyday, and Ty Lee knew it because the fresh smell of death made her feel like she was back in the war. But she was a seasoned soldier, and these deaths didn't bother her as much as the manners in how they died. She had seen the bodies being wheeled away to the mortuary on ancient and rusting operation tables, their faces frozen, still haunted by the torment they were unable to flee.

She shuddered inwardly, the horror of her memories made new by the closeness of her surroundings. She often had dreams like this, dreams that caused her to wake up cold and screaming because it was Azula's gray and rotting body and shrunken face on the morgue table, and no one could calm her down until Miyo came in and slapped her across her face to tell her that whatever it was it was only a nightmare.

She barely noticed how the doors opened and shut behind her, but managed to equate it to the presence of the Avatar and without turning to look at him, she waved ambiguously in the direction where she knew the office door to be. "We should go inside."

Ty Lee missed the look that Aang had given her and had even less clarity when he asked her quietly, "Does it feel like this every time you come here?"

"What?"

He gave his companion a gentle touch on her shoulder, knowing how empty the action was. "Nothing." Taking the initiative, he stepped past her and towards the door she had motioned to earlier. Raising his hand, he knocked smartly, and waited in bated silence with Ty Lee standing steadfast at his back.

The door opened with a metallic whine and a graying, bearded man poked his head out, inspecting them with squinted eyes.

"Ty Lee!" He harrumphed, peering at the girl. "Goodness, is it that time already? And who is this young man?"

The girl laughed, shoving away her dread, and answered the jolt she saw when he fished around in his coat pocket for a pair of spectacles and placed them on his nose. "He's the Avatar, sir. We thought we'd get a head start."

"Of course, yes. At your service." The doctor nodded, and gave a shallow bow of greeting. "Forgive me. Won't you please come in?" He stepped aside, pulling the door fully ajar to give space for the two friends to enter.

The room was large, but spartan. Outside of the obligatory chairs and desk, there was only a large series of bookshelves, which occupied the entirety of the far wall, crowded with papers and scrolls that arranged themselves in a baffling assortment of files. But what amazed Aang was how _bright_ , everything was. There was a large window from a small stone garden, letting streams of the sun illuminate the office with unusual brilliance, and Aang wonders why they don't let the light in to the other parts of the hospital.

"This won't be but a minute." He continued, ushering them into his office and seating them in plain wooden chairs that seemed to match the rest of the room's décor in plainness. In a great, ponderous movement, he turned to move back towards his own chair on the opposite side of the low desk. "My apologies," He said as he lowered himself into the chair. "My mind just isn't as it was when I was younger. I had quite forgotten that such an esteemed young man was visiting me this week."

Ty Lee leaned from the side of her chair to whisper playfully into Aang's ear, still loud enough for all to hear. "Don't let him fool you! Doctor Han is modest, but he's also really smart." Aang laughed as a slight pinkness that flushed the old man's cheeks.

It was hard to tell if Ty Lee was being serious or not, but the ambiguity of her actions were difficult to see to begin with and completely nonexistent to someone like the doctor. Aang could see it, though, but he wished that Suki had been here to decipher it more completely.

"Ty Lee is being flattering again." He cleared his throat as he took a piece of cloth from his pocket to wipe his glasses. "But I'm afraid she exaggerates." As the last remnants of his discomfort faded away, the doctor reached behind him to pull a binding of parchment from the endless length of shelves that decorated his office wall. Without looking from the two companions, he pulled another scroll from a different shelf and rolled it open over the pack of documents.

"I'd like to ask if you have any questions, Avatar, before we go to visit the Princess." His voice had become sobering in its seriousness, and Ty Lee's false levity, along with what had been left of Aang's characteristic optimism, evaporated.

The monk paused thoughtfully, the gray of his eyes floating between the scroll at Doctor Han's fingers, and Ty Lee's taut posture. The question was almost superfluous; he had many questions. However it would be rude to ask potentially presumptuous questions when he himself did not know the entire situation, so he declined. "Perhaps after the visit."

Nodding, the aging man then looked purposefully to the young woman. "Then without boring you with the more mundane medical details, I will address the general issues." With one aging hand, he traces the lines of the scroll, and with the other her began rifling through the pack of papers, his voice growing deep with the solemnity of recitation. "Princess Azula came to us in the second season after the war. Her condition was…dangerous, and it was decided with the help of the Fire Lord that her bending be contained."

Without so much as a pause in his speech, he produced a heavy metal object and dropped it on his desk, and it landed with a dramatic thud in front of the Avatar. He continued as Aang curiously reached for it, not looking up from his papers.

"Shortly thereafter we began a series of drug regimens in hopes that we could find the root of her hallucinations and unfortunately we've been largely unsuccessful. Starting the previous year, we've increased the dosage of sedatives, and this is still the cocktail that we've maintained until this year. The exact prescription of the herbs needed was hard to discern given her inhibited chi flow, which has left her perpetually weak."

As Doctor Han was speaking, Aang was marveling at the iron cuff in his hands. Yes, he was there at its creation, and had supervised it engineering, but it was the first time he had ever held the finished product in his hands. He knew exactly what it was, Ty Lee had explained it to them all, but it didn't stop his morbid fascination with knowing that what lay in his hands had utterly crippled and defeated one of the world's greatest and most terrible fire benders. His fingers ran over the large bumps that perforated the inside of the metal band in a precise formation. There was a large loop welded into its side, presumably to thread large and heavier lengths of chain anchored to stone. The metal itself was unique, a composite of iron alloy that had been developed for this single purpose, to never wear and to never rust, to imprison Azula until the end of her days.

This single object had equated-no, surpassed-his own skill at bending the spirits of other human beings. He wondered if Ozai could have been spared his fate and honor, if hundreds of lives could have been saved because they didn't need to be executed. But Ty Lee had been adamant, and her conscience hanging by a fraying thread, so no more had been said on the subject and the steel remained Azula's alone.

Turning it over in his hands, he was awed in how heavy it was. Azula would be wearing five of them. When he had last seen her, she had been a petite girl of fourteen, and although a master in a bending art, it was still an art that relied on stamina and not strength. The inability to flex her joints, to move without excruciating pain, and the eternal burden on her limbs would have, with no doubt, taken a horrible toll on her body by now.

"I will speak plainly." The doctor sighed. "We don't yet know the long-term consequences of keeping the princess under such an extended period of medication; it's simply unprecedented. The timeframe the Fire Lord gave us is rather…ambitious. However we have been compliant, and as of today her medication has been halved, an extreme measure to be sure. Within two more days, she'll be off the medication completely."

He was speaking deprecatingly, but Ty Lee couldn't have minded any less. Doctor Han was a nice man, and yes he was brilliant, but what he possessed in intelligence, he completely lacked in any ability to sympathize with his patients. He ran the hospital with a ruthless efficiency that could only be the product of a large amount of professionalism. It had made him initially very difficult to deal with, but Ty Lee had befriended him with sly calculation of his character, and he had been more receptive to her suggestions: pillows for Azula's cell, a (small and barred) window for her to see the outside, and even allowed Ty Lee small allowances of protocol (touching the patient, giving her gifts).

Ty Lee had waited for this day, and they both knew it. She had made it abundantly clear how she felt about the drugs they were burning in Azula's cell, but had refrained from actively campaigning against it because she could think of no other alternative. She wasn't a doctor. All she could do was watch as Azula's mind further deteriorated, cannibalizing itself in the dark.

How had they come here? She could never figure it out. It wasn't as if there was a single point that she could look at and say, this is it. This was when Azula had changed, and so had I and I couldn't take it anymore but it didn't change the fact that we were still friends, but when I forgot for even one second the world came down around us.

But now she was paying for it. She was paying for it everyday, and every night she couldn't sleep because she didn't want the nightmares to come. She was living a new life, with new friends in a new world, while Azula died slowly and forgotten. The world was moving without the fire princess, despite her illustrious, and fruitless ambitions.

She wanted to say that she remembered Azula best, and that the old world they had lived in had been more than a memory; it had been real. But Ozai was dying his own death, agonizing and pathetic, and Mai didn't want to do anything these days except forget where they came from. Sometimes Ty Lee wanted to shake her so badly, and tell her that putting on nice clothes and a crown wouldn't change the fact that it had happened, and they had been apart of it.

So she had told Azula instead, whispering quiet things to her sometimes when she thought the princess was listening. "I remember."

Ty Lee remembered Azula, strong and glorious in the light of the burning sun, her gleaming armor and crown shining in the dark blood of war. She remembered the strength of Azula's body, the powerful planes of her back as she rushed past her and lead them furiously into battle. She remembered their victories, where they were welcomed home as heroes of battle and honor fell on them like cherished rain. And she remembered her own awe, how her voice had risen higher and higher on its own accord, resonating with the undulating masses who all cried out in unison,  _I believe in your greatness_.

"I will warn you, the change is…drastic." Doctor Han finished lamely. "She will be fluctuating, trying to grasp what her real feelings are, and defining what she thinks is the result of her medication." Ty Lee noted with great exasperation how he pinned his gaze on her as he spoke his next words. "It will not be easy."

She smiled, as if she hadn't worn this knowledge on her shoulders for years and years.


	5. The Only Moment We Are Alone

Azula was awake. Ty Lee knew it long before she approaches the bars that divide the room, because there's no steady rhythm of heavy breaths and restless murmurs in the dark. Instead, it's silent and still, as if something is waiting impatiently, as if the dying sunlight from Azula's window could wait just one second more.

The air smells damp and earthy from wet stones and the dying incense. It feels like yesterday, old and familiar, and Ty Lee feels almost nostalgic only she never wants to go back. She wants to grab Azula and run, to pull themselves from the very fabric of time, rushing forward and meeting the future because anywhere has to be better than nowhere. Anywhere has to be better than here.

Aang stands far in the back, forgotten and wasted, and she feels guilty for wishing him gone. But he doesn't belong here, and everyone in the room knows it, from the bashful juvenile shuffle of his feet, to Azula's impassive and lethargic flicker of her eyes. She wants to turn to warn him, to tell him to run, and that what lives in this room is strong and persistent, and can reduce even the Avatar to nothingness.

Ty Lee lays a subdued hand against the cold black strength of iron bars, her tired eyes peering into a frigid abyss framed in glowing sun. From the ground, Azula stares back with painfully beautiful golden eyes. Her hair is long and uncut, and falls around her severe and mournful face in unruly dark locks. Ty Lee marvels how even in imprisonment, where her mind has fallen like besieged bastions, Azula's elegance remains timeless and inviolate.

"'Zula?" She kneels down, her breath within her throat, wanting so much to stretch her hand out and to tell the caged princess that they didn't have to be lonely anymore. They could be like Zuko and Mai, never whole but at least without the dark nights and perpetual solitude. They could be that for each other, companions in a world that didn't make sense anymore.

"Ty Lee."

The voice is as she remembers, dark and soothing, reflecting her empty desires. She wants to fall into it, fall into a blinding hope that she doesn't want to wake from. She knows that somewhere within it, Azula is waiting.

"I'm sorry I came early today." She breathes, her fingers wrapping around metal bars, and says the words that are her eternal, silent, greeting.  _I'm back._

They were so close, close enough where if Ty Lee only reached out, she could place her hand on the princess' knee, but she doesn't. Instead, she presses herself against Azula's cell, and the space between them seems so much smaller than what actually divides them.

A soft tinkling of metal accompanies a slender hand rising from the ground, a delicate finger singling itself out to trace the lines of the metal bar Ty Lee has her hand wrapped around. It travels up, and although her touch is cold and far away, Azula's golden eyes never leave Ty Lee's.

"You didn't listen to me." It was a murmur that might have been a growl, had they been speaking years in the past, the way they used to. Azula would have formed her words like she bent her flames, shaping them in her own image, beautiful and threatening. But Ty Lee is eighteen, and Azula is seventeen, and they aren't the children they used to be, who dashed away the dreams of their youth in foolish chases across the world.

The years stretch before them like infinite skies, swallowing them in its vast space and memories, and Ty Lee is everywhere except where she wants to be. She wants to anchor them, together, motionless and grounded. But there's a great divide, and it pulls between them, and somewhere beyond it, Azula is reaching back. If they touch, it's only their fingertips that graze, but for a single moment, Ty Lee's promises are more than air and Azula's dreams are more than hollow ghosts.

Their meetings are never gentle, even when Azula doesn't talk, and today Ty Lee feels the familiar coldness of Azula's gaze that sinks into her skin like cool rain. It quenches the fires left by yesterday, and her eyes flutter shut and her lips part as Azula's hand slips through the bars and rests on the gentle curve of Ty Lee's cheek.

"You haven't been sleeping." It isn't caring; Azula is never caring. She demands, and Ty Lee obeys. She is imperious and ruthless, and today, coherent for the first time in lifetimes. But even princesses make mistakes and she betrays a weakness born from loneliness, but Ty Lee doesn't care. She understands too well.

"Sorry, 'Zula. I had a busy night." And she feels herself leaning in, letting Azula inspect the ever-present pair of dark circles that she knows underlines her eyes.

 _I've changed._  She wants to say as Azula traces lines over her skin, marking territories and borders in her bones, printing roads that tell her where she's been and how long and where to. She wants her to see this, to realize this through foggy recollection, that what they shared in this dark room was more than consolation and mourning.

She wants to know what Azula sees in her face, and if it's the same thing that she sees in Azula's. Azula, who grew up so painfully and brightly and painting her legacy in glorious streams of passion and resolve.

"They're gonna stop burning the incense soon. How are you feeling?"

Thin lips pull back to expose a white, torn smile. Azula laughs and its broken and high, but not unpleasant, Ty Lee decides.

"Still trying to get them to fix me, Ty Lee?" The hand pulls away and the acrobat struggled to reason why she felt so cold in its absence, when Azula's firebending is only a distant memory.

"N-No!" She yelps quickly, as if stung. "Well yes, but-" She winces and stops, not knowing what to say because they're both true, but by themselves they mean nothing.

"I'm joking." Only she's not. It's a thinly veiled attempt at civility, but when did Azula ever care about civility? Something is simmering beneath her in dangerous waves, and it manifests in frigid winds down the back of her neck. "Really, Ty Lee. Don't kill yourself over it."

She senses it before it happens. It's violent and angry and breaks the lines they've made, the bridges across unfathomable waters, but there's too much water and Azula is rising higher and higher, throwing down the barriers and crashing through. She's awake and it's so beautiful and magnificent, and everything Ty Lee has hoped for it to be, because it means Azula is alive and strong, and like a moth to a flame, she can't escape.

Someone grabs her by the collar of her dress and drags her back before angry arms snake through the bars to grab at the empty air when she once was. Azula smashes against the metal, and Ty Lee is falling and tumbling backwards until she slams against Aang's chest and he hauls her to her feet with steadiness.

"Ty Lee!" His eyes are mired with worry, and he pulls her far away, more alarmed than either of them. He's three years younger than she, but his hands are almost paternal when he inspects Ty Lee for wounds. Her nerves have fled, and she's too scattered to piece together what had happened.

Azula laughs again-only louder-and it has the same shattered quality as once before, hysterical and mournful. She slides back to the ground, one arm wrapped around her stomach and the other bracing her against the metal wall. "So you're real!" She says while she pauses to gasp for air. "I thought you were like  _father_! Oh Ty Lee, why didn't you tell me you had brought a  _friend_?"

"But…" She closes her mouth and the sentence dies on her lips.

Her hand is at her chest, and she barely registers how its beats unnaturally and thunderously. She struggles to breathe. She blinks dumbly, as if trying to wink away sunspots from her eyes.

She feels dizzy, and can't decide if she wants to cry or throw up or both.

Aang hovers protectively over her, as if by shielding Ty Lee from Azula's intense gaze, he could ward her off entirely. It's a valiant-if hopeless-attempt, one that goes unnoticed by all except Azula, who sees everything.

"And to what do I owe the honor of the presence of the revered Avatar?" It's spoken slowly, laced with sarcasm, but so intoxicating and Ty Lee doesn't dare look up into Aang's face to see if Azula has the same effect of him as well.

If it does, he's excellent at hiding it, and he moves forward, daring to meet Azula's unspoken challenge. He floats carefully, just outside of her reach, and watches disquietly with dismay written all over his face as she paces the length of the iron wall between them.

Her hands pluck lazily at the metal bars as she glides by, but even with Aang standing resolutely before her, her gaze remains ephemeral, as if looking through him, past him.

"You're very tall." She's talking about him, but she's still looking at Ty Lee. She crooks her neck eerily, continuing to examine the other girl with resolute determination, as if trying very hard to recall something she has forgotten, as if looking at her for the first time. "Taller than my brother, I believe." Even from far away, he can sense Ty Lee trembling, and he boldly shoves himself the last measure forward, until finally he stands almost nose-to-nose with Azula and she's forced to confront him. "I wonder…" The smile she gives him is even more unearthly. "If I have changed as well."

He notices how foggy her threatening eyes are, and he knows she's judging him, pressing around him, looking for cracks in his defenses. He gets nervous for a sharp moment, second guessing the legitimacy of his purpose here, but then he remembers who she is and glares back.

"Zuko thinks that I can help you." He says, answering her first question. He doesn't know why he feels like he has to account himself to her, but seeing her now for the first time in years makes him realize how pathetic she's become, and the revelation fills him with pity and sickness.

"Zuko!" She seethes in outrage and slams her arms against the cage, the force of her blows shaking the entirety of the structure in reverberating waves. Aang instinctively pulls back, shrinking away from the wrath that he inadvertently incurred. "That spineless rot! That coward, that  _cheater_!"

Her anger devolves into laughter, seeing the utter shock that mars the face of the two friends. It was absurd, it was asinine how easily her brother had entrapped them, blinded them from his incompetence. His selfish greed.

"He has taken everything from me, and yet he wants more. I have nothing more to give. I have  _nothing_!" She spat out the last word with venom. The chains hanging from her wrists rattle as her hands clench around prison bars. "The only thing left is what he doesn't want." She lifts her aching arms, the mechanical silver of her wrists shining like stars in the dying light of the room, and smiles when lancing pain through her limbs reminds her of ancient days. "Not even the Fire Lord can kill his own family, I suppose." Her eyes lower, turning to the side, her voice growing into a whisper as she addresses the emptiness around her. "Isn't that right, father?"

Panic lights Ty Lee's eyes and she scrambles to her feet. Anticipating her move, Aang goes to catch her around the waist and holds her firmly to him. She struggles feebly, and with forceful coaxing, he demands that she remember herself. Great spirits, the girl had a death wish.

"Where is he?" Azula asks slowly and dangerously, her arms falling limply to her sides, the clanging of heavy ropes of iron ringing like bell tolls.

Ty Lee is frozen, her tongue clinging treacherously to the roof of her mouth, and the only thing Aang seems to want to do is flee from this place. She can feel Azula's chance at salvation evaporating around her, dying before it can begin, and knowing this, it floods her chest, her throat, and spills over in uncontrollable streams down her face. The Avatar's arms are a paltry consolation.

Their silence only compounds her fury and she screams.

"WHERE. IS. HE."

Ty Lee almost chokes on her own words. "He's not here. H-He thought that…I…" What? What had Zuko thought? And for that matter, what had she thought? Stupid, fragile things. Dreams of fools. She sees it now in Azula's eyes, haunting and gruesome, that laugh at her and her childish follies. Her tears are wasted, falling poisonously to the floor, and all of a sudden she wants to take everything back. Her meetings with Zuko, the audacity of her beliefs. She'll do anything for her lofty promises of paradise to return. "That we could go somewhere."

"With  _you_?" Azula snarls, her mouth open and twisting. "You, you did this with your insufferable lies! You're not her! Ty Lee's dead! You're dead, do you hear me? YOU'RE DEAD!"

Her screams wash through the room and instantly the doors of the cell smash open and columns of soldiers stream into the room in frenetic waves. Someone-the lieutenant, Aang recognized-pushes them violently from the cage and towards the wall. But Ty Lee doesn't want to leave, and the soldier hauls her bodily from the floor.

"No!" She shrieks while clawing at his thick arms that carry her farther and farther away. In her ears, she can hear her cries intermingling with Azula's ire when they throw open the doors of her jail and they rush around her and the princess is lost. "No, don't hurt her!"

They're not listening to her. Ty Lee's voice dies in the tumult, but she can see how they swarm around Azula like flies, forcing her to the ground by the chains of her limbs. They devour her. Her cry of pain is unmistakable when someone twists one of the manacles locked around her wrists and she collapses limply and everything Ty Lee's been feeling up until now funnels itself into a point and breaks and she's not even surprised when her sorrow transforms into an unmistakable rage.

"I said don't hurt her!" She's screaming when she swings up and deals the lieutenant a sharp blow to his solar plexus and he keels over. She's rushing past him in a heartbeat, running to Azula like her life depended on it, like she would die without her.

She barely manages to get within arm's reach of the nearest guard and she already knows which way she's going to making him feel very sorry when someone catches her arm on its backswing and she barely manages to stop herself before she paralyzes Aang's somatic nervous system.

"Let go of me!" She tugs, but the look on his face is stony and morose and she knows that he'll not budge.

"No." He says quietly. She tries to pull away, but he's stronger and she doesn't have the heart to try fighting him.

"Aang…" She's pleading, growing weaker and weaker. Her momentary anger is dissipating with the harsh staccato of Azula's sterile outrage, and she knows that if she stays still for too long, then it will really be over. "I, I need to…"

He pulls her gently to him, and when she relents and collapses, it's sudden and painful, and it seems to span forever when she presses her face to his shoulder and cries.

"Out of the way!" Someone roars and the men part like waves on roiling seas, and an escorted man in a leather apron is thrown into the fray, an object clenched tightly in his white-knuckled fist.

It only takes two men to hold Azula down and force her mouth open while the orderly pours a viscous black solution from a glass vial down her throat. She sputters, veritably drowning in the muddy sludge as they pinch her nose shut. Only when it's over do they pull away from her, watching as she coughs violently and squirms underneath her bondage.

A taunt silence descends on everyone, and the eerie stillness of hospital cell is intermittently broken by the wet hacking and feeble squirming of the girl lying prone on the ground.

One by one the guards file out of the cage and move solemnly towards the cell door. The lieutenant who Ty Lee had dispatched with brutal, impassioned efficiency, is wordlessly carried to his feet by his comrades. No one spares them a single glace, except for the lieutenant, who gives Ty Lee a deeply ambivalent look, and disappears.

Like phantoms from a nightmare, all of the soldiers are gone, and they're left silently by themselves. Aang doesn't yet release Ty Lee, watching in cautious alarm while the nurse remains hunched over Azula's now-prone form, his ear pressed against the girl's barely-moving chest, and his fingers probing delicately at her left wrist.

They've removed the long chains that anchored her to the walls, and instead, Aang could see how they've bolted the shackles on Azula's ankles and wrist directly to metal plates welded to the floor. Stretched across the cold stone of her prison, Azula indeed looks small and pathetic, even more so once he sees how her breathing has become labored and her eyelids flutter in an vain attempt to focus her eyes. It's demeaning and excruciating and forces him to look away.

Ty Lee shifts in his arms and remembering himself, he releases her for the third time that day. She pulls away, and it looks like she's going to collapse again before she turns to see Azula's limp form drawn flat against the ground. Her hands rise, and she holds them tightly to her chest, as if she can clench tightly enough where her heart won't break.

"A thousand apologies. We had not anticipated this." The orderly says when his task is finished and he pads silently over to the Avatar, and the words are so insufficient and worthless that Aang powerfully wishes that he would just go away and leave them alone.

But when Ty Lee mechanically detaches herself from them, and moves slowly, trancelike, towards the open bars and Azula, his urgency returns.

"She's going to be ok, right?" Not knowing who exactly he was referring to.

The man nods. "Yes. What we gave her is only a sleeping draught. A powerful one, but no worse for the wear. It will not impede her detoxification."

Aang has no idea what he's talking about. He's too busy staring after Ty Lee, torn between wanting to drag her away, and knowing how much she needs this.

"She won't be coherent for much longer. If you have any questions for her, now would be the time."

Aang shakes his head, and the older man shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly and the airbender wonders how long must someone work under depraved circumstances before they can master such blatant apathy.

Pressing a hand over his eyes, he tries not to forget that Azula nearly killed him in the catacombs underneath Ba Sing Se. This girl is cruel and dangerous and Ty Lee's wasted love will eternally doom them both to the confines of this prison. But it was hard to reconcile the conqueror of nations, the almighty princess of war, with what Azula had become.

His obligation to Zuko and the Four Nations Summit weighs heavily on his mind, and he knows that he will be unable to preserve both interests. Azula must be punished to appease the people, hardly a sacrificial lamb, never a martyr, but as something in-between. What he regrets most is how it will destroy Ty Lee.

When Ty Lee approaches the bars, she's trembling and tired from crying and the nights of sleeplessness, and Azula looks so small it makes her want to fall down next to her to comfort them both. As she pushes the door ajar with a shaking hand, she realizes that this is the first time in years that she's been able to be so close to her friend.

Kneeling down, she tentatively reaches out to brush her fingers against Azula's cheek. It's hot and feverish, an blotchy redness clinging stubbornly to the skin, and she knows immediately that something's not right.

The steel collar at Azula's neck hasn't been chained down, and a faint tilt of her head tells Ty Lee that she's still awake.

"Ty Lee?" The voice is frail and quiet, wrought with confusion, giving it an almost-childlike quality. Azula's eyes have stopped flickering back and forth, and are now dilated and hazy, focusing on something far away.

"Hey Azula." Ty Lee manages a weak smile, daring to gently slip her hand in Azula's, their fingers brushing over the intruding metal that imprisons Azula's limbs. She waits with halted breath to see if the girl's anger will return, but it doesn't and Azula expresses a perplexed look.

"What, what happened to me?" The lost expression on Azula's face makes Ty Lee swallow whatever she's been holding in her chest and it tastes suspiciously of new tears.

"You just…" Not knowing how it betrays her, she pauses to try to steel herself, but it fails miserably and all she can muster up is a contrived airiness. "Got tired. You'll feel better after you rest, though." She tells her with as much lightheartedness as she can afford, but Azula sees through her smile like she's been doing it her entire life.

"Liar." Her eyes narrow in a pitiful mockery of the power her glare used to hold. It crumbles and is replaced with something that seems like wistfulness. "You never had a talent for it."

This brings a humorless burst of laughter that dies in Ty Lee's throat as soon as it can be born. She reflects with an unhealthy self-loathing why the peaceable conversations between them are only when Azula isn't herself.

A sudden burst of excitement lights Azula's eyes, as if catching the light for the first time, they open widely and look at her in childish expectation. "Hey Ty, do you remember? Back then…you remember, don't you? I was great, wasn't I?"

Ty Lee peers at Azula, and can't bring herself to shatter what she finds resting in her face. In truth, she remembers a lot of things. She sees them everyday in the ghosts that haunt the Imperial Palace, in the playful children of the Kyoshi's housing compound, and in the faces of her friends, old and new. She knows that she remembers everything, from their childhood to the last battles they fought together, and she can honestly say that she was there from the very beginning.

So instead of asking Azula what she means, she says "Yeah. Yeah, you were, 'Zula." And with her heart at her throat, and the caress of Azula's golden eyes on her face, she promises to forget her caution, and softly brushes her lips against Azula's forehead, printing her last hope of something new because she doesn't want this to be a goodbye.

"I'll never be that again, will I?" Azula murmurs after Ty Lee pulls back.

Distantly, Ty Lee can hear Aang calling for her, and knows with the sinking of her stomach that it's time for her to go. When she looks back at the princess, she finds that she can't answer her, but for the first time, Azula doesn't seem impatient or frustrated. She seems weary, worn and tired, and for a brief moment-gone before Ty Lee could find it again-lucid.

"Leave, Ty Lee." Azula says to her as Aang's hand presses insistently at her shoulder. "There's nothing here anymore."

She wants to protest, to tell Azula that she's wrong, but like the clarity of Azula's eyes, the princess is gone and her eyelids fall, and she disappears instantly into the drug-induced sleep. When Ty Lee leaves the iron cell and the door locks resolutely behind her, she can't look anywhere except to the door that leads outside. Azula's words resonate in her ears with terrible finality, and she can't shake the feeling that it's a death sentence.


	6. Take Me Somewhere Nice

Early mornings in the Kyoshi's housing complex were deceptively calm, and Suki is the first to wake up. The sky was still dark when she had risen, anxious and unable to rest, dressing speedily and quietly lest she disturb the sleep of her comrades.

She's always amongst the first to wake up in the barracks, even if she didn't technically live here and the schedule of morning chores were handled by Miyo, and the Avatar's retinue was taking a short reprieve in the city during the week of the Four Nations Summit, she still liked to be productive. She enjoyed the early mornings, when there was hardly a soul stirring in the hallways, and the chaos of ushering children to and from classes and rushing to pull her squad through daily drills, hadn't yet hit the day.

But it was the weekend, and while this meant no children and no classes to teach, the Kyoshi Warriors would be occupied with running drills and planning the logistics of their security detail for the impending international conference. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Suki couldn't help the growing headache that spawned whenever she thought back to last night's events. After Ty Lee had left with Aang to Wuhan, and afternoon classes were finished, Suki had called together the first of many meetings that outlined their plans for the Four Nations Summit.

While most of the Kyoshi Warriors had been contracted out to assist with the ambassadors of the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes, Zuko's strange request that both her and Ty Lee should attend the summit, had split the group on proposed actions.

Miyo had veritably clashed heads with the other captains, citing Ty Lee's questionable standing amongst the Fire Nation political elite and nobility as a liability, and had strongly advocated giving the girl and Suki their own security detail. Yukie, the captain of the unit stationed in Ba Sing Se, had quipped that if there was an assassination squad alive that could take down the combined forces of Ty Lee and Suki, then it would have to be the most unstoppable fighting force in the world, and the Kyoshi Warriors might as well pack up and go home. The laughter this joke had elicited from around the table had flustered the normally stoic and aloof captain, but to Suki's surprise, Miyo had dug her heels in and wouldn't relent on the issue. She had practically exploded when someone else had remotely insinuated that her protectiveness over Ty Lee was less than professional. Discussion had degenerated to hostile growling and sharp words, and Suki had mercifully called a recess until the next day.

Suki had hoped that with some reflection, she would be able to see the answer. It was strange to see Miyo acting so passionately, but she wasn't one to distrust the instincts of her captains. Ty Lee's behavior in recent past was a marked change to the people who paid attention enough to see it. Undoubtedly, Miyo's concern had mirrored Suki's own in light of yesterday's events. It had been even more worrying when Ty Lee had been due back later that evening from her visit to Wuhan with Aang, but had never showed. Suki had been unable to check with the Avatar, and when Katara had informed her that he was caught in another meeting with Zuko, she had no choice but to wait it out.

Ultimately, she had waited in vain, and with an equally reluctant Miyo, had retired in the latest hours of the evening.

Her thoughts led her out of the barracks and into the open aired courtyard that connected the different wings of the building. The air was fragrant with the smell of pollen and morning mist, and newly invigorated, Suki decided to see if she could catch the sunrise.

Scaling the steep stairs that led to the balcony where they hung their laundry to dry, Suki decided that she would try to forget her troubles for another couple of minutes. Weaving through the drapes of white sheets, she moved to perch herself on the guardrail, pulling out an apple she had snagged from the kitchens and polishing it on the hem of her shirt cheerfully.

She was about to bite into it when she saw Ty Lee.

The girl didn't seem to have noticed her, or was ignoring her presence entirely. Turned to the lights of the city, Ty Lee's face was tired and drawn and her eyes were bloodshot, and although her face was dry it looked as if she had been crying for some time. She was still wearing the clothes that Suki had last seen her in, despite the ugly tear that ran along the seams of her collar that she hadn't noticed before. Her hands played nervously with her long braid, usually so neat and tight, but was now slightly frayed and coming out of its binding.

"Ty Lee?" She called out in astonishment, and it seemed like the girl really hadn't heard her enter the balcony, because she gave a visible start and turned to look at Suki with a look of amazement that mirrored her own.

"Suki!" Ty Lee squeaked, and Suki wondered if the girl had sustained neck pains from turning around so fast. She at least had the sense to look embarrassed and chastised for being up the entire evening and hiding in a place where no one could find her. A part of her was annoyed that Ty Lee had been holed up here while the rest of them had been worried sick, but the way Ty Lee's hands ran themselves quickly over her cheeks was unnerving. She couldn't remember if she had ever seen the other girl cry.

She was expecting Ty Lee to revert to her usual behavior, the one that played off all her troubles with goofy smiles and lighthearted excuses. She pictured the girl forcing up every last reserve of energy she had, to brighten up and say "Hey Suki, wanna watch the sunrise with me?" but the smile never came and in its place was a complete absence of anything substantial or even remotely close to the Ty Lee that she knew.

"What, what are you doing here?" The acrobat said instead, rising from the chair she had been curled up on, wincing as she stretched out her limbs that had undoubtedly been frozen in the night air.

"What am  _I_ -" Suki stopped, hovering between bafflement and outrage, but she's never had the heart to be angry with Ty Lee for very long. It was like kicking a puppy. "Were you up here the whole night?" She refused to be derailed by one of Ty Lee's diversionary tactics. The look that the girl gave back at her confirmed her suspicions and she exhaled a weary sigh.

"Not the whole night." Ty Lee murmured quietly. "I was just…trying to think." She said, her words coming haltingly and unsurely. Her eyes were downcast, and Suki felt immensely guilty for confronting the issue tactlessly.

She looked at the apple in her hand, remembering the quiet morning that was already gone. She motioned for Ty Lee to sit back down, which the younger girl took to obediently and thankfully. Finding another chair, Suki moved to sit next to her friend, running a hand through her shoulder-length hair in quiet contemplation as she appraised Ty Lee with a careful look.

"Would you like to talk about it?" She knew how cheap it sounded, how thin and worthless, but she also knew how much Ty Lee valued "talking" out problems and hoped that the virtue was something the girl allowed herself as well.

It didn't seem to have been. The girl shook her head with a fragile smile, put forth for Suki's sake, despite how appearances were worth nothing between them. Suki was her leader, something like a friend, almost a sister, but never a confidant. What separated them was the same thing that separated Ty Lee from everyone else, from the rest of the world that didn't share where she came from. Even if Ty Lee did begin to speak, no one would understand where she was speaking from. No one except Zuko, or Mai, or someone very, very far away.

"What happened at Wuhan, Ty Lee?" She asked, making no pretenses as to what she was referring to. It was a silent acknowledgement that Suki was giving her permission to talk freely about what they had feared being placed in the open.

"Did something happen to Azula?" She said quietly, her eyes flickering to Ty Lee's. It was almost strange to think that they had never talked about the princess before, and instead it had been a mutual understanding that came without discussion, that Ty Lee would leave in the evenings and Suki and the captains would not ask where she went. She wondered if it felt strange to Ty Lee as well, who had lived straddling the border of two worlds.

Azula was certainly not loved outside of her home country. She was far too cruel, too shrewd, cold, and frighteningly malicious to achieve the deeds that she had for her age without great sacrifice. Suki and the Kyoshi Warriors had faced such a mighty and terrible persona head on, and the leader had personally tasted defeat under the ruthless heel of the princess. Even staring into Ty Lee's face now, Suki knew that she would never forget it. As much as she loved her friend, forgiveness wasn't something she could afford easily, and if this conversation took a turn towards sympathy or became a compassionate dirge about the days they used to share, Suki wouldn't have been able to stomach it.

Ty Lee was silent, her face blank except for a twinge of agony at mention of the princess' name. Resting her elbows on her knees and pressing her face to her hands, Ty Lee sat motionless, while Suki placed a cautious hand against her back and rubbed soothingly. Like everyone else, she had been so used to an eternally cheerful and vibrant demeanor that had been the young girl's signature, and now she was at a complete loss.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do anymore." Ty Lee said a little while later. She lifted her head, and her hands fell away. "Everything was a lot clearer… back then."

"War does has a funny way of sorting out your priorities for you."

Ty Lee's hands clenched themselves in the scalp of her hair. "I guess so."

Suki pulled her hand away, watching her friend carefully in fear that she would burst into tears. She glanced around them, and while the skyline of the city and harbor were beautiful, the balcony they rested on didn't offer any great comfort.

Looking down at the apple in her hand, Suki paused thoughtfully. "Ty Lee, when was the last time you ate?"

"What?" The girl looked up, perplexed.

"Did you eat dinner last night?" Suki rephrased patiently, and seeing Ty Lee guiltily shake her head, she gratefully took her by the wrist and led them from the terrace in large bounding steps. Relieved to be able to provide her with a form of comfort in lieu of a more significant consolation that she was so inept at creating, she marched them into the dining commons. Lighting a table lamp with a box of matches from the kitchens, she left Ty Lee sitting at one of the long benches in the dining halls, making sure that the girl wasn't going to pass out. "Wait here." She said shortly, disappearing back into the kitchens with the fluttering of her trailing robes.

Taking logs from the woodpile and lighting the stoves, Suki quickly set a pot of water to boil and as an afterthought retrieved some tea leaves from the pantry. Finding pouches of sticky rice wrapped in bamboo leaves left over from supper, she placed them into steamers and went back to check on her friend.

She found Ty Lee hunched over the table on her elbows, her eyes glazed over as she stared mutely into the flame of the table lamp. Her unblinking eyes reflected the fire perfectly in pools devoid of any thought or energy. Suki waited, hoping that the girl would take notice to her presence on her own, but whether a product of her exhaustion or despair or a combination of both, she didn't and Suki tentatively reached out a hand to touch her on the shoulder.

"Hey." She said smiling weakly as Ty Lee's eyes blinked slowly back into recognition. "I got some food started."

"Oh." She mumbled, rubbing the heel of her hand against one of her eyes while peering at Suki through the other. "Thanks."

They waited for the food to finish cooking, sitting next to each other in the orange and yellow glow of the room. Through the window, the sun was rising, throwing swaths of light across the darkness in somber blues and fading the winking stars into growing daylight.

"I'm worried about you not sleeping." Suki said. "Miyo told me about your nightmares." She added hurriedly when she saw Ty Lee open her mouth for a hesitant excuse and cut her off effectively. "This hasn't been for just a couple of days, has it?"

Caught in her lie, Ty Lee knew she should have been more guilty than she was feeling. Yet all she mustered was a shrug of her shoulders and an uncommitted shake of her head. Realizing that she wasn't going to get much out of her in this state, Suki let the subject drop and left for the kitchen.

She returned with a plate of food and a steaming pot of tea, both of which she placed in front of Ty Lee and nudged the girl into eating. "Eat first." She said, pouring a cup of tea for herself and blowing at the steam carefully. "It should hold you over until breakfast."

Unfurling the bamboo leaves, Ty Lee did more poking at her rice than actually eating it, but another stern look from her captain pushed her to begin eating dutifully. She got half of the rice packet down and was about to call it quits before Suki placed a cup of tea in front of her expectantly.

"Yes, mom." She teased and although it didn't have the same playful bantering quality, Suki rolled her eyes all the same, but cherished it silently.

The two friends sat sharing tea in the quiet vastness of the hall. Dawn would come soon, and it was Suki's fervent hope that nights like these would disappear forever. The stillness that enveloped them felt malignant and oppressive, eating away at what would have been something warm and familiar. She remembered the last time she had been alone with Ty Lee, the afternoon she had come upon the girl lying supine in the radiance of the summer sky, taut and fading. She wished suddenly, that their relationship hadn't been based on the lies Ty Lee wore on her face, and that she could erase the secrets that hung between them and replace it with something honest and real.

She wondered, with a hint of irony, if they had truly ever been friends. If their relationship went beyond their jobs and if she had ever respected Ty Lee as her own person instead of as a figment of the war, an accessory to the greatest military leader of their generation.

They hadn't been sitting together for very long when a loud echoing boom shook the stagnant air of the cold morning, and Suki's introspection drops. She freezes, and second guessing herself, she turns to ask Ty Lee if she had heard what she thought she had.

"Who in the world-"

The knocking came again, growing louder and more insistent. Suki's face twisted in annoyance and she leapt up from the bench and ran out of the dining room before whoever was knocking at their door at such an ungodly hour could wake up everyone in the building. Leaving Ty Lee with a severe order to stay in the warmth of the room, she grabbed her coat and departed swiftly.

Pulling her jacket around her tighter, she hurried across the courtyard, growling under her breath when the heavy handed pounding persisted and she were sure that someone by now was waking up with a migraine. "I'm coming, hold on you-!" She marched to the wooden gates and unbolted it as fast as she could. Whoever was behind the door was still knocking when she threw it open.

"What?!" She demanded, her irritation unfazed in staring at the identical set of towering armored figures of the Imperial Fire Guard. They stood tall and imposing, looking down ominously at her from their hidden visages that laid behind steel masks. She tried in vain to pull the look of blatant distaste from her lips. She didn't care if they were the bodyguards to the royal family, it was five in the morning and had Zuko's involvement written all over it. She glared defiantly into the masked helms of their uniforms and felt slightly satisfied when they turned to look at each other in a moment of insecurity.

"Greetings, Suki of the Kyoshi Warriors." One of them said, obviously the culprit who had been hammering so enthusiastically at their gate. "The Fire Lord has instructed us to ask your pardon for the intrusion at such an early hour. We were told this is the current residence of Lady Ty Lee."

She opened her mouth to tell them to (kindly) get lost. She didn't care what title Zuko held at the moment, she only remembered Miyo's protectiveness over Ty Lee during their meeting the previous day and her own mild indignation that she was strangely mirroring it. She braced a hand at the door, ready to fire off a scathing riposte about how Ty Lee had left for the night and to slam the door in their faces.

"I'm here." A subdued voice said at her elbow and when she turned to look, Ty Lee had followed her from the kitchens. She couldn't hide her scowl of outrage.

But Ty Lee is unflinching, her eyes were wide with some akin to comprehension, passing between the two soldiers with a slow transformation from her cold and glassy gaze.

Suki wanted to ask her what was wrong, what she was seeing in them that was making her act this way but the tone of the guard's voice dropped somberly and collided with her concern, throwing it aside and holding Ty Lee enthralled.

"His Lordship has commanded that you be escorted to Wuhan Asylum immediately. He awaits you there presently and urges you with due haste." They move to hold her by her shoulders, but Ty Lee slips out easily from their grasp.

"Wait!" The acrobat almost screams and the soldiers falter, taken aback momentarily. Suki is looking between the guards and her friend, the utter distress written on Ty Lee's face compounds her belief that if these men are here to accost her then there would be nothing to stop her from defending Ty Lee with everything in her power.

But the girl's next words freeze Suki's blood and the events of the previous hours fall into place and everything becomes too painfully clear.

"Did something happen to 'Zula?"

There's a fraught silence and it seems to expand forever, but it tells her everything she needs to know and Suki can feel a hungering terror worm around her own heart when Ty Lee releases a wordless cry, and drops to her knees, a fragile hand pressed to her mouth.

"What, what happened?" Ty Lee asks, her voice breaking in a quiet whisper. Her hands are trembling, a slight tremor but obvious enough to see. She doesn't cry but tears fill her eyes and threaten to spill with the rush of the changing air.

The guards hesitated. They have their orders and they want to move before the sun rises, but the sun is already breaking through the darkness and spilling over the city in grand brilliance of yellow and white. The night dies, fleeing across the sky, and with it the comforting deception that had been their shield. They can wait no more; what Ty Lee had hidden from in her small recluse of the city comes rushing back with heartless force.

"All will be discussed once we're at the ferry." The second guard speaks for the first time, in a pathetic attempt to bait the young girl, but it's not enough to placate her. She's surprisingly strong when she moves forward, lunging and grabbing and pleading all at the same time, her heart breaking in her throat when all her fears manifest so clearly in his eyes.

She demands to know what happened, and it's all Suki can do to pull her away. Her words of comfort, the ones that ask how she can be so sure that something happened to Azula, die miserably in her mouth as Ty Lee grows shrill with hysterics. She's possessed, her voice flung into the winds and carried higher and higher and Suki can feel the morning coming to life around them, roused and awake, bearing witness to uninhibited madness from sleepy windows.

"Tell me!" Ty Lee mantra is immutable, and finally (mercifully), when one of the guards catches her by the wrist, she realized with a chilling defeatism that she had been waiting for this, the feeling that comes with his words that fall so cleanly from his mouth, from another place, far away. She wondered if she had given up as well, if something inside her had withered and died with the awakening of Azula's mind. But she knows exactly when it began, when her optimism had fallen away and she had been forced to survive on something other than what she could earn in follies and frivolous confidence; she knows exactly when she stopped dreaming and started waiting.

She has been waiting since she last held Azula's hand, weaving the traces of their friendship in mournful layers, the shroud that rested on their skin and hid their dishonest goodbye. She has been waiting since Azula's eyes last pierced the darkness and spoke to her of their youth that died, and the nothingness that took its place. Ty Lee knows now that she will always remember the very last night she saw the brilliance of imperial golden eyes. When she processes his words, she wants to cry or laugh, or do something-anything-that could take her away from here, and she wonders if this is what dying feels like.

"The princess is dead."


	7. Remember Me As a Time of Day

Her father was a phoenix.

Long before she was born, he had written his legacy in the fire-scorched soil of the earth, and in the spilled blood of the vanquished and defeated. Before she learned to name her fears and the awe that fills her, she knows that his greatness is boundless and the greatest glory that she can hope to achieve lies in the favor she finds in his eyes, and the perfection she must win. She's small when she learns these lessons, when he brands them into her with burning fire and cruel instruction, and she has never forgotten. She carries them with her to her grave.

She remembers many things about her father, but she always falls to the same memory. She falls through years, and clouds of fog, spiraling downwards and disappearing soundlessly into molten darkness.

She didn't recognize where she was, only that it was not where she belonged and she couldn't shake the feeling that she had forgotten something very important.

She's young when her father summons her to his study, taking her small hand beneath his and pressing them together over the dusty and aged map that dominates the room and says in a voice that makes her shake, "Someday, this will all be yours." And she forgets for one second that the ruling birthright was not something that could be earned.

Her father's voice falls from her memories with ease, the same one that promised her dreams and flowered the seeds of her ambition. If she begins to wonder, years later, if her father's words had been honest intentions, it's for a fleeting moment that dissolves into the mist of the evaporating study and the falling wisps of smoke. His hand fades in the dying light, and when she turns her own fingers to grasp the last vestiges of the vanishing phantom, it's already gone.

Panic floods her chest, and she whirls around with searching eyes, her voice throwing itself to the decaying room, asking the empty air and the crumbling walls to not leave her behind, to carry them with her into immortal glory.

But her father is gone and so is the palace. She blinks once, and she stands in the middle of a growing field that fills to become the gardens of her childhood. She's younger now, although when she looks down at her hands, she hasn't changed from her years after the war and the doomed Agni Kai. When she looks back up, the sun warms her face reassuringly, and although she can't place this memory, the feeling of gentle familiarity erases the fear that had taken hold of her.

She tried desperately to remember where she was, what she was doing before she came here, or if she was even awake and if this place was the product of ephemeral dreams. Try as she might, she was unable to bring clarity into her surroundings, and the palace gardens remained mysteriously beautiful and wonderfully timeless.

In her wanderings, she paused to admire a rosebush, reaching out to touch the fragile petals and wondered briefly if such artistic repast had ever graced her thoughts before, or if this was light fancy that struck her to act so strangely, so unlike the person she was today. When her hand passes through the flowers, floating treacherously in the droplets of dew and verdant leaves, the only thing that surprises her is how much she had expected it to happen.

"Azula!" Someone calls, and she looks slowly from the mirage to the auburn-haired young girl who bounds so cheerfully down the steps of the palace gardens. Her legs, which in years Azula would know to grow long and lean, bring her faster to the princess' feet, and she notices with grim certainty that Ty Lee's eyes haven't changed since the seasons of their childhood.

She wants to ask her how she does it, how she's able to retain all the optimism and joy of the days of their long-fled youth. She wants to know why even in her forgotten memories, Ty Lee never changes.

But the words are hard to form, falling to ash within her mouth, and instead she speaks old words that echo from when she first spoke them, long ago.

"Don't run." She commands, scolding the girl who would grow up to defeat her, to imprison her with smiles and laughter on her lips. "Ladies don't run in the palace."

"It's only the summer palace." Ty Lee says after much deliberation, gathering her words with all the confidence Azula knew she possessed. "No one's gonna see." She adds, her childish eyes falling with the corners of her mouth as she tried her best to appear convincing.

But Azula's not convinced. With every breath she takes in this place, she grows more sure that something is coming, something large and terrible that has followed her here, that will not let her rest. She does not fear it, not like she fears her father, but the feeling grows and expands with the length of time she spends here, with every second she stands with Ty Lee.

She aches for substance, for something to bind her together, to contain her. It seems in the vast strangeness of her ever-changing world, that she's coming undone, that something inside her is spilling out in the presence of this doppelganger.

"Where's father?" She's sure these words are her own, and emboldened by the new-found autonomy of her actions, Azula braves on. "He was just here."

Ty Lee's brow knits together in confusion, her soft eyes settling uncomfortably into her own with practiced ease that says she's been doing this for far too long.

"It's almost autumn. He's gone to see the armies again. It's just you, your mom and Zuko this month. Don't you remember?"

But she doesn't. There's nothing within her to say that this was real and not another creation-a fabrication of her mind, a bastardization of what had truly come in the past. But even this falseness, this dangerous abomination remains illogical.

"Then why are you here?" She demands, eager to root out the inconsistencies, what should have been and what couldn't have been. She wants to know why even here, Ty Lee will not leave her alone.

"Because," The girl replies, and her face becomes a mixture of confusion and hurt, mingling in a potent cocktail that poisons Azula's stomach at her next words. "You asked me to. Do you really not remember, Azula?"

"No, I don't." She snaps, her outage becoming her shield. It pierces the indecipherable fog that surrounds her, and for a brief second she feels like she can reach out and seize the curtain of haze that is so suffocating and so oppressive. "That's what I've been saying. If you had half a brain you would have realized that."

The sharpness of her voice cut like knives, and it pleases her to see Ty Lee shrink from her with visible distress. It empowers her-feeds her-and it feels good to be able to inflict something, to provoke anything. But regret flowers just as soon as her exultation withers, and her inability to upend the roots of these inexplicable and shameful feelings reminds her of a separate time when she had been so lonely in a room full of people, and this girl's tears had been the only thing to remind her that her that while her deeds were great and praised, she was still only a girl.

"I'm sorry." She says, her apologies having ever been only afforded to a single person. "I just want to know why people keep leaving me." Her words sound petulant, with the impatience and hurried frustration of a child, the unabashed quality of her words making it plain to her own ears. But it's enough and Ty Lee accepts it, taking Azula's hand within her own and closing the distance that the princess created. Something passes between them, and looking into the other girl's eyes, Azula knows that she can feel it as well.

She blinks, and Ty Lee is no longer the young girl from their childhood. In an instant, the acrobat has aged ten years and she's everything that Azula remembers her to be in the years after her betrayal. Her hair is longer, her face losing the roundness it had during the war, and the flighty airhead of a girl Azula was friends with is gone, and in her place is an agonizingly striking woman who wears her sorrow in her eyes. The beauty that Ty Lee has grown into is the same that mocked her from beyond her immortal metal prison, the same eyes that looked at her so pityingly from between her steel bars.

Azula's anger returns with furious alacrity, and instantly she knows the words that will drive them apart. Her face twists into a snarl and she's much too ready to carve her rage into Ty Lee's heart.

"It's okay." Ty Lee says and freezes Azula under the gentle hand that she lifts to caress the side of the princess' face. Her voice is soft and against the other girl's best wishes, remains as soothing as Azula remembers it to be in its mature treble that washes over her in cooling waves.

Fingers trace over her, and Ty Lee's gaze retains its loving features and despite Azula's indignation, she can feel the tender fingertips erasing the lines of her wrath that had marred her face. They stand close to each other now, closer than they ever had before and it seems strange that she accepts this proximity so unquestioning, that it feels so appropriate, and she almost expects it when the acrobat mutters, "I'll never leave you," cradles her face to her, and presses their lips together.

Ty Lee's mouth is impossibly soft and the words that she offered ring in Azula's ears with a honeyed temptation that matches their slow kiss. It's a promise that Azula feels like she's heard before, as if it had been given to her before, in a separate time. Unknowingly, she clings to it, begging for it to be true, hoping that this time it will be real.

But when she pulls away, she can feel their doomed fate drawn from her in a deadly whisper that she leaves in the last memories of their kiss. "But you do." And she pretends that Ty Lee's pained look is real and not the summation of all her desires that never grew to fruition. She pretends that it's not another failure.

Ty Lee's mouth opens but before she can say what Azula's mind wants her to say, the princess dispels her and she watches with dispassionate eyes as Ty Lee's ghost fades away without preamble or goodbye. In her absence, the garden of Azula's childhood memories grows quiet and rotten. The intangible leaves and flowers grow prematurely yellow and red, falling from their stems and branches before her eyes in a gross acceleration of decay.

Reaching out with a lazy hand to a falling gray leaf, she expects it to fall noiselessly through her palm and to the ground below. The confusion that she has at waking up to such a desolate land, made only from her dreams and memories, her lack of recollection of anything she had been doing until her arrival here, and the seemingly arbitrary circumstance by which she gains and loses control over her actions, seem to culminate at a peak when the leaf catches into her fingers.

"Azula?"

She knows the voice before she turns to see who gives it. It's the same that haunted her nightmares, and her waking hours, and the one that personifies her madness and insanity. Ty Lee, by now, is only a far away anxiety on the precipices of her concern, and vanishes entirely in the presence of this greater demon.

When Azula looks up, she sees more than an aged mirror of her own face, the reflection of where she came from and what she will become. She sees the paramount of her weaknesses, the formulation of her screaming nightmares and tormented days. When she was younger, it filled her with fear, but as the years pass and she grew with the frequency of the apparitions-like all prolonged exposure to emotion within her heart-it turned black and acidic with anger.

"Azula, is that really you?" The complete inability to ignore the pervasive concern and love that plagues the voice, drives Azula into a desperate fury. It almost seems as if she had returned from her grave, was really reaching out with trembling hands that begged so achingly to press against the sides of her face. It was almost as if she had really loved Azula, as if she had never thought her a monster.

"Get away from me." Azula's voice is only a whisper, and she doesn't know if she's angry at herself or angry at the memory that won't die. "You're not real."

"Azula, what are you doing here?" The ghost's eyes are treacherously alarmed and within them she sees an understanding, a dangerous perception that sees the circumstances that has brought Azula to this place. It is within this horrible realization that the demon's eyes grow scared and frantic. "My love, you don't belong here."

"SHUT UP!" Azula demands when such lovingness pierces the bulwark of her shields. It worms within her, a disgusting parasite that eats away at her, destroying what she has built up and she now lies like broken battlements; for all her victories, she wishes she could salvage the remnants of this one war and nothing can contain her shame when her voice breaks when she repeats. "You're not real."

She falls to her knees, pressing her hands to her ears and she hates how small she feels, hates how she's disappearing in the vastness of what looms before her. She's helpless and doesn't even have the strength to fight off the figment of the woman who descends upon her with a perilous embrace. She quakes underneath it, trembling like the dying leaves of the artificial winter around them.

"Oh my darling, what have you done to yourself?"

The ghost moans pitifully when they press together, knowing that Azula's growing tangibility-her materializing physical presence-means something far more sinister, and this better knowledge forces her to tear them apart.

"Azula, listen to me, there's not much time. You must leave this place." Shaking Azula's shoulders gently so that she would understand her severity, her desperation showing in her plea. "You can't stay here, do you understand? You don't belong here."

But the princess doesn't. Instead, she stubbornly clings to the mantra that has given her strength since her childhood when her loneliness had illustrated itself in a perverted sickness, ever since her self-doubts had taken corporeal form. "You're not real, you're not real."

"Think, Azula!" The woman clasped the girl's face within her hands. "What were you doing before you came here? What brought you here? You must remember!"

But she doesn't remember anything, and that's the whole point. She can't break this wall between herself and what stands around her in the glossy colors of another lifetime that surely was not hers. But these words fall like a dark magic and the abnormality of her circumstances, which she had so easily ignored in the face of these unholy apparitions, comes surging back in new force.

If she's honest with herself, she only remembers that it began with Ty Lee-as it always had-and the old feeling that something is waiting for her, something large and inescapable, comes rushing back. She remembers her prison and the heaviness of her father's hand, but nothing in between, and the only thing that sits in its vast absence is the aged sensation that something old and ancient waits in the darkness and is coming for her.

"You've forgotten something very important, haven't you?"

"No." Azula says, and the more she remembers Ty Lee, the more she can feel herself changing. She retraces herself through a map she's forgotten how to read, knowing that at its center is the answer she's been yearning for, knowing that Ty Lee's presence in her dungeon had been a beacon.

Her mother's embrace falls through her and the ghost of Ursa gives an alarmed cry when Azula looks down at her own arms to see the red that blooms down them in streams of angry tendrils that split her skin. It pools below them, pouring from Azula's long limbs in fast-flowing rivers that fall from her elbows and onto their feet.

Something heavy and sickening fills her stomach and bursts forth in floods from her mouth and nostrils, the frothed bubbles of her blood choking her throat and dribbling down her chin and neck. Falling to her knees, Azula vomits and coughs up the remains of the flesh that had been missing from her skin in strips of pink and white.

When she's done, she looks back up, and the pain that lances through her arms seem to correspond with the look on Ursa's face that says so clearly what has happened. Her mother's understanding fails to move her, and Azula feels vaguely disgusted when the woman begins to weep.

"I couldn't take it anymore." She offers coldly, not even startled by her own revelations, and smiles direly when Ursa's hands once again, pass through her shoulders emptily. Azula knows instinctively what Ursa's next words would be but she silences them with a merciless jerk of her head.

"No. No one loves monsters." She says with a hollow and cruel laugh because the anger that used to come so easily falls flat against the growing pain that explodes through her arms in cutting throbs of her pulse. "You taught me that." And while she intended these last words to be thrown venomously with the weight of all the short-lived fires of her years behind them, they wither in her mouth and her voice fractures into a whisper.

The last thing Azula feels as the world dissolves around her and her mother's image fades against the bursting light, is her evaporating strength and the open veins of her arms raking themselves through her in liquid fire that melts her muscles and bones.

She wakes up screaming, thrashing feebly between the coldness of the steel table and the white sheet draped over her skin and face. Weakly pulling it away, she gulps air greedily in the blinding light of the room. In an instant, shadows descend on her, pressing her down and forcing her hands against the iciness of her metal bed. Disoriented, Azula fights back with all of her mustered strength and screams again when she feels the wounds on her arms tearing open and fresh warmth trickles over her.

The room is alive with a million voices impossible to discern. Her ears felt full, unable to hear beyond the muffled blocks of sound that she couldn't filter. But even in the fog of Azula's excruciating torment, the familiar voice that rose above the clamor of the erupting room is unmistakable. The outburst of movement in the corner of her vision fills her with a hotness that echoes her limbs and throat. She knows without a doubt who this is, who it is who rushes towards her without pause.

But someone else reaches her first, grabbing her manacled wrists and wrenching her arms open wide into the air. Her unfocused eyes barely make out the glowing orange-red of a medical instrument and as it hovers to find the lines of her arteries, Azula turns her head to meet the only face that pierces the heavy mist around her, and the wetness she finds in Ty Lee's eyes inexplicably unnerves her.

Azula can't grasp the words mouthed to her from within the chaos of the room, and the white-hot metal ignites her in a crippling, roaring, agony that devours her ravenously into merciful blackness.


	8. Crown of Love

When Ty Lee was young, she learned that people were pillars, the product of those that stood around them, and built up by those who loved them. And like pillars, people never stood by themselves, they held up what was inherited to them and grew into their burdens (responsibilities) with a duty that grew with the passing years, and even if she was only a child, she would understand in time.

Ty Lee had been young, and silly, and broken hearted that she hadn't been allowed to attend a birthday party in lieu of the advancing pace of her studies, and the merits of this allegory were lost. When she grew up, she left to chase her dreams someplace far away and with it all the stories and fables her nursemaid had told her remained forgotten.

It's only when she comes home that she remembers.

The stories they tell now are different, the fables have changed. They call Zuko brave and strong, and Mai, virtuous and unwavering. But whenever Ty Lee thinks about strength or virtue, she thinks about Azula's shoulders and the house she inherited, how the weight of her forefathers was so great she was unable to see what she held up.

 _Did I cut it away from you?_  She says in the sudden coldness that eludes the full autumn sun. Her whisper dies in the wind and leaves with the flutter of the window drapes. When she opens her eyes, Azula is still sleeping.

Lately, Ty Lee doesn't think about anything but the past.

Azula is painfully thin, her body worn away by the years of disuse and bondage. Her arms, once lean and hard with hinted lines of power that stood across her skin, are weak and translucent like paper and disappear beneath the spiraling bandages. The gauze begins at the elbow and ends under the metal fetters, and somewhere in the middle, Azula had decided that her dignity was more important than her life.

But as she watches Azula's breath rise and fall in shallow and fitful tremors, she knows that this is just another failure for the princess. The house of Sozin is cruel, even before Ty Lee sheared away Azula's strength.

"We have the same blood." Ty Lee had heard Zuko say in the empty cell that smelled distinctly like slaughterhouses and butcher carts. "We have the same parents." He said to the caked gore and drying blood that splattered across the stone walls. But what he really meant to say was that if his uncle was right, and that the lineage of Roku had saved him, there was no reason that Azula couldn't have been saved as well.

Ty Lee smiled at the memory because it was nice for him to think so. But if Azula needed saving, it wasn't in the way that Zuko thought. It was in a way that was much more complicated than just trying to change someone. Like with many things, Zuko's intentions were kind and at the right place, but always tempered by a certain degree of ineptitude.

Ty Lee doesn't sleep anymore. At best, she closes her eyes for minutes, and tries to be someplace that isn't a hospital room that reeks of disinfectant and the faint tang of human blood. The ease with which she slips through time scares her, and she wonders if maybe she's going delusional herself. Sometimes she's four years old, back in her parents' horrible villa and stuck in a mass of miserable sobs that wear her same face and parrot the words of drilled decorum and skin-deep propriety. Then she's six and is allowed (for the first time) to touch Azula's hand; behind them, her mother and Princess Ursa smile despondently at each other. Ty Lee is unstuck in time, pulling backwards and forwards and going places she had long forgotten about. The next time she closes her eyes, she's sixteen with paint on her face, her new uniformed boots splash into the sandy shores of Kyoshi Island and she realizes that the worst thing in the world isn't the death of one's aspirations, but how one's self-determination evaporates with it.

Ty Lee saw her first dead body when she was fourteen, fresh from the bright lights and musical notes of the circus, her muscles are hardened from acrobatic routines, and not from the fighting she would re-train herself to use in a month's time. The man's muscles were rotted and shrunken, his skin perforated like a wheat cracker from the shrapnel that they said had entered his body and melted his insides. Feces and blood ooze over the lines of the tarp that held him together. His bare feet were white and blue and the air smells like smoke, shit, and rotting flesh. Mai is plainly disgusted, but Ty Lee can't stop looking. She hates Azula then, powerfully and with more anger than she's ever hated anyone. She doesn't understand (until much too late), but she smiles through the entire war, afraid that her face will betray how much she wants to break down and cry.

Her dreams pass in the blink of an eye, but when wakes she feels like she's traveled through lifetimes that weren't her own. The light through the windows tells her that it's been hours since she sat down, and the way her spine has frozen against the frame of her chair makes her wince and feel too old for her actual age.

When she looks up, Azula is awake and staring at her.

At first, she thinks she's only stuck in another memory, and is too busy trying to place it to realize that this is real. Moments pass between them, and it feels like forever when it was really only seconds. Ty Lee's heart creeps into her throat and pounds furiously against her skin; something like fear sits at the base of her stomach and eats away at her reason.

Her voice is small and fragmented when she finds it. Distantly, she says Azula's name, more out of wonder than from the hopes of reviving the other girl from her weakened daze. She finds that she has so much to say, so many things she wants to ask. Knowing that Azula didn't die in the emptiness of a prison makes Ty Lee want to sob with relief, but underneath it, she doesn't dare hope for anything more.

Azula's eyes are scattered, flittering everywhere and too tired to focus on anything for more than a few seconds. They search the room around Ty Lee-untrusting the girl sitting next to her bed-grasping and searching for the edges of the room, trying to find where it ended and where it began. Devoid and passionless, Azula waits for it to evaporate around her.

"Azula, it's me." Ty Lee says, waiting breathlessly.

The princess' gaze returns between them, hovering in the space that begins at Ty Lee's insecurities and flowers under Azula's indifference. Ty Lee feels like she's been waiting for years, leaving home to places around the world, only to return and find that the world had moved on without her. She's sick of waiting, of running to places she doesn't know where. She's tired of looking for something to free her.

She's tired and she knows Azula is too.

"Where…" Azula's voice rasps like paper in a wet breeze, drawing in windy breaths that leave in heaving coughs.

"Um." Ty Lee is terrified to find that her wits have left her. She almost knocks over her chair in her haste to stand up. Instinctively, she gropes for the water jug that rests of the nightstand. She pours a cup of water and turns to the bed with thinly-concealed nervousness. Looking into Azula's wild eyes, she inhales a deep breath that she hopes would strengthen and quell the furious trembling inside her.

"Here." She says, leaning carefully to cradle Azula in her free arm, holding the girl's head against her shoulder. She places the cup to Azula's lips and watches her gulp the water down greedily, their fingers brushing together when Azula summons the most of her strength to try to save some semblance of her pride to grip the cup herself.

When she's done, they sit apart; Azula lying limp against the pillow with her face turned to the ceiling, and Ty Lee at the edge of the bed, stunned. The silence is tenuous and frays

Slowly with each heartbeat, each second that passes when Ty Lee looks at Azula's seventeen year old face. They've never been honest with each other, never anything like real friends. They were in fact, something else entirely, bound by a common tragedy. Azula had woken up in a world she couldn't live in. Ty Lee had grown to realize that neither could she.

"What place is this?" Azula said finally after a time. Ty Lee doesn't know how to respond.

"When is this?" Azula asks, as if it was supposed to help. "I don't remember this one." Her words were painful, coming quiet and labored. A weakened hand lifted itself in a halted path to her head, and confusion etches her face when she looks down at the chains that hold her bandaged arms to the bedsides.

In spite of herself, Ty Lee gently catches Azula's hand in her own, hoping that the trembling she felt was more in her mind that in her fingers. Opening her mouth to speak, she freezes when she looks into Azula's face and is silenced by its coldness, enthralled by the familiar animalistic fervor that boiled underneath. Ty Lee is reminded how she has always felt whenever the princess looked at her. How she felt before the Agni Kai. Trying to not be conspicuous, Ty Lee drops Azula's hand.

For a second, she doesn't know what to say, and stares back at Azula, and tries hard to not remember how small they used to be.

"You're in a hospital." She says before covering her eyes with her palms. "I mean-a regular one. They moved you here after…" She can't stop thinking about the hundreds of words Zuko had said to the palace officials and news readers. She can't stop thinking about all the lies they've been so good at saying, and how she promised herself that if (when) Azula woke up that she wouldn't be too angry. "After you tried to kill yourself." She should have known by now how hard it was to keep ill-made promises.

If any realization makes it to Azula, the princess doesn't show it. She remains motionless, sagging against the pillow and away from Ty Lee. In vain, the girl tries to decipher Azula's unreadable face, looking for a glimmer of a sign, anything to give away what could have passed for an emotion. But even at her most vulnerable, Azula seems to retain all the powers that keep her hard and immovable.

Ty Lee's voice is thick when she finds it later. "Do you remember that?"

The silence that answers her is hot and tight like Azula's bandages. It constricts and binds and holds together Ty Lee's pretenses. Something burns inside her throat, flooding her blood and howling against her thin skin. It feels suspiciously like a scream, or maybe a sob.

"You're so stupid." Someone says, and the way Azula's perfectly shaped eyebrows flicker upwards and her cool eyes regard Ty Lee disquietly tells her that she's done something she wasn't supposed to. She's shocked at her own words, her own audacity. But staring into Azula's expectant gaze, one that waited for her inevitable and hurried apology and shame, Ty Lee finds that she's not very sorry at all. She's not sorry for telling the truth.

Against the illumination of the open window, Azula's gaze seems all the more intense. Ty Lee sees her clearly for the first time and it feels like the darkness of the Wuhan cells was only a dream. Azula has grown so much, and Ty Lee's certain that the princess now towers over her by at least half a head. Her fingers are slender and delicate. Her face is longer, mature and beautiful even beneath its gauntness, and in close years would echo Ursa's memory more than the princess would care to admit. Azula had left imprisonment and entered the dawning years of her adulthood.

"You're so stupid." She says again. Her voice is louder, filling the room in a giant rush of her sudden defiance. It's cathartic and self-centered, a culmination of all she had wanted to say but couldn't before. Her voice is frantic and leaves in a frenzied stream, holding all of the sadness she hadn't shown and all the anger she couldn't afford. The irony of her murderous rage isn't lost on her, she could have killed Azula then, she could have throttled the princess and sent her back into that infernal darkness she had been so eager to find. But she saves herself and surprises both of them by grabbing Azula's collar and instead of slapping her like she had wanted to, ends up pulling them together.

"You're an idiot!" She screams. "How could you do something like that? How could you do that to yourself?"  _How could you do that to me?_  It feels like she's breaking into a million pieces, falling all over the floor and disappearing. Tears fall down her face and onto Azula's shirt, dotting a constellation, imprinting a story. She clings to Azula's form, drinking in the feeling of bone and warm skin and the beating of their hearts next to each other, and the final affirmation that Azula was alive. "You can't leave me. You can't-Azula, I…"

There's a confession somewhere, hiding beneath the things that she's refused to see, and all the things she's pretended to be. If she wants to, she can grab it and make it come alive. If she's brave, she can even say it.

But Azula smells like ash and blood, the remnants of a war lost a long time ago, when she used to smell like linen (in the mornings) and saffron (at night.) Ty Lee pulls away, ashamed at the bindings that holds the princess' arms to her sides, and her own feelings that she's forced between them. She doesn't dare look at Azula's face, which she imagines would be a furious mask of outrage. Realizing what she's done, she suddenly feels a mixture of mortification and sickness.

"I'm supposed to get a doctor." She offers to the stifling stillness, murmuring hollow words to the air. The creaky mattress complains as she rises and she's sure that Azula can hear the pounding of her heart against the wall of her chest. Her long-legged strides take her to the door faster than she can think about the gaze that follows her there, or about how easy it is to run away. She takes great care not to slam the door, and slumps against the other side of it, exhausted as if she's been running for miles and miles.

It feels like all she ever does lately is cry. Pride comes from small things, like smiles and laughter, and being the bravest person she can be. But she was being mean and heartless, and all the things she had blamed Azula for, while swearing that she would never do the same. It's petty and childish.

She takes huge gulping breaths to fight the tightening of her throat; her eyes pinched shut to stop the hotness from spilling onto her face. If she started hiccupping then there would really be no pretending, even if Azula was waiting behind three inches of steel and wood. She tries to remember that she was a soldier once, as well as a girl.

It doesn't take long for her to find someone, and it seems that almost half the hospital staff conjures themselves out of thin air to lead her back towards Azula's room. The passing looks they give her are pitying, and more than occasionally, frequented by a suspicious hostility. To them, she's an enigma, somewhere between a traitor to the old crown that Azula personified, and a pariah of the new liberalists that Zuko championed. It's a line she's learned to live on with poise and a cheerful resignation; her family had served Azula's for generations, new loyalties are hard to win and traditions are hard to break. She meets them with a breaking smile.

A veritable army marches back to the princess' room, and Ty Lee tries not to think about how gratuitous it seems, the messages they're probably passing off to the Imperial Palace, or even about her own feelings. She tries very hard to not think at all.

Two years has felt like forever, but the closer they get, the more she wishes she had more time.

When someone moves to push open the door, her thudding heart leaps into her throat and for a second she feels a violent irrationality that says that this is another one of her dreams, and instead of moving back in time she's moved forward, and she's imagined a fantasy where Azula was alive when she was really dead. Or that Azula had awoken and grasped her situation enough to reattempt what she had done before. The thought floods Ty Lee with horror and regret, and no matter how sincere she might have been, she wishes with a hungering desperation that she could take back what she had said.

It takes all her self-control to stop herself from storming into the room. But when the door opens, time hasn't really moved at all. Azula remains unmoving, lying frozen, with her eyes someplace far away. She's exactly as Ty Lee had left her, giving no sign to show that she acknowledged their presence or the swarming mass of physicians that moved to surround her bed in a strategic formation that was eerily militaristic. Ty Lee was impressed, Azula looked almost bored.

"Princess-" The head physician started with a clearing of his throat. But whatever he had wanted to say, it died with the airy and delicate raising of Azula's hand.

Azula possessed very little worldly things. As the Fire Nation's princess, she had owned vast monetary sums through personal spoils of war and hereditary land holdings. Combined with the profits derived from her family's investment in the country's industries, and being her father's sole legal heir, Azula had been the wealthiest of their generation. But the end of the war left little unchanged, Zuko had expropriated the monarchy's holdings in war enterprises and whatever personal accounts Azula had were frozen. Azula had nothing to her name, but an empty title. And a legacy of fear.

"Ahem." The doctor coughed, withering pathetically as Azula's demeanor grew from aloof to a rapidly climbing vexation. Her earlier lethargy seemed to fall off her inconsequentially as she rose like a coiled serpent. The entire entourage visibly fell back, shrinking from the girl who raked her eyes hungrily across their faces. Ty Lee felt a shiver strike down her spine (like lightning) as Azula's eyes stopped on her.

"Well then." He stammered, waving obscurely to his colleagues, who in turn glanced at each other in hesitation. Taking heart in that Azula was temporarily abated, it only took a slight ushering for them to descend on the princess in packs. They pressed around her, hurried and clambering to complete their tasks, their normally clipped precision tinged with a sense of urgency and panic.

"They're afraid of you." She said, once the staff had left, fully aware that neither of them had moved and that her comment was more of a useless narration than an honest attempt at conversation.

Azula sat in clean bandages and a new cotton shirt. Her tussled and unkempt hair gave her a distinctly childish look. It was slightly comforting, and she couldn't help but cling to it, cling to the black inky curls that spills over Azula's slim and pale shoulders and not on her own feet that have mysteriously decided to fasten themselves to the ground, to the trap that opens beneath her.

"But not you." Azula says, her voice pouring over Ty Lee like a thick honey, entrapping her in the thick amber of golden eyes. It sounds like magic floating over them, erasing Ty Lee's fears that Azula would try to recall what had happened between them.

"No." Ty Lee replies, suddenly and in the inexplicable absence of reason. She's lying, and Azula's wry and cruel smile signals a mutual acknowledgement, because Ty Lee still has nightmares about it. The moment where it took one second for her to decide, where she had sheared away Azula's strength in clean, sharp blows, and Azula's pillars had fallen around them as surely as if Ty Lee had pulled them down with her own bare hands. "And yes."

It feels like everything had been made for this moment, funneled into this singular point in time, towards this one last battle. She hoped that after this, Azula would finally be able to rest. Because Ty Lee had never been like Mai, who had always been clear and whose goal had been as true and steady as the flight of arrows, who wore her crown as brightly as she wore the halo of her new love. Ty Lee, has always been-and ever will be-as flickering and wild as the lancing, surging lightning that danced from Azula's fingertips.

"Why?" Azula's question crashes like a hammer, if only to belie the whimper that Ty Lee imagines had come from the princess' throat. As clear as day, Ty Lee can hear an age-old laughter, she can see a timeless smile that existed before the discovery of all-powerful Avatars, before princesses learned to don plate armor before their first ball gown, and before she learned that servitude meant burning the nets that catch you. Twelve years ago, they had been small, and the ring of flowers that Ty Lee had woven into Azula's hair had meant more than any crown, honor, or victory. Before Ty Lee had learned the concept of tributes, she had made oaths of friendship and love.

"I couldn't stand what you were becoming." Because Mai would have died, and Ty Lee couldn't have lived her life knowing she was a part of that. She wouldn't have been able to live with herself, knowing that she had stood by and watched her best friends murder each other.

"What it was doing to us." Because she would always remember the utter betrayal written on Azula's face, the snarl that twisted her lips as she ordered them dragged away and into the dark. Because she would always remember what it was like to be stripped, tied, and beaten. "What you were doing to me."

And maybe Azula remembered the crown of flowers Ty Lee had made on the day they first met, because when she lifted her hand and it was caught on the metal cuff again, Ty Lee imagines that it was to feel the memory of red petals intertwined with soft black hair. Maybe it was why instead of growing cold and angry, Azula was sullen and quiet.


	9. Walking on a Dream

The last time Ty Lee had made a personal visit to the palace, it had been weeks before the start of the Midsummer Festival, when Mai had been inspired enough to invite the girl over to share the last of the spring wolfsberry wine from the palace larders. The night had begun with a spontaneous demonstration in acrobatics along the garden baluster and ended with a thoroughly inebriated Ty Lee sobbing into her lap and lamenting the childhood tragedy of the death of her beloved kitten, Garbanzo.

While the episode had been quite some time ago, Mai had no desire to repeat the incident again. She took an extra care to make sure the menu was well-planned, and only the most faithful of the serving staff were attending to them.

Not like she cared about gossip or things like that.

She stared at the nauseating floral-pastel table spread with an upturned eyebrow, pleased to see that her instructions had been followed and there wasn't the faintest sign of alcohol or canapés of the legume origin anywhere within reach. Satisfied, she waved the servants away, and once she was sure they were out of sight, slumped into one of the lounge chairs in a decided un-stately manner.

As much as she hated to admit it, she had begun to look forward to Ty Lee's visits.

Affairs in the capital had taken an unsurprising downturn during the beginning stages of the summit meeting. Preliminary negotiations were at a stand-still, and the new ambassadors were proving themselves to be incapable of the simplest tasks. Although young persons fresh from the academies and universities seemed hardly to blame. The Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom Confederacy had sent their best, the most talented in oratory and the most skilled. The Avatar's companion, Katara, had already proven herself …insistent in negotiations.

In contrast, the upper echelons of the Fire Nation's political cabinet were entirely bereft of any skilled, and experienced statesmen, many of whom had been removed from office or purged in the Ba Sing Se War Tribunals. What was happening now in the Four Nations Summit was not unlike what had happened in the years prior, and no doubt would continue in the years to come. The Fire Nation had lost the war, and a victor's vengeance was proving to be worth the fires of a hundred wars over. The country was being carved up like a melon.

While possessing little power herself, Mai saw no end of visitors from every noble family still residing within the capital. Those that had backed the wrong royal horse had lost their sons and fathers, and those that had backed the right one were losing their properties as colonies were expropriated, and wealth as investments from collapsed war industries dried up. Their bribes-though impressive and it pained her to refuse them-wouldn't have lent her (or Zuko) the clout she needed to save what it was that they wanted.

Chewing thoughtfully on an olive, Mai wondered bitterly if the Fire Nation knew of any methods of diplomacy besides those involving gunships.

"Gee Mai, gloomy much?" Someone said and she almost expected a hyperactive burst of pink to erupt into her field of vision, and for the familiar voice to begin prattling nonstop about circus bears, shoes, and boys. But when she lifts her eyes across the table, it's only Ty Lee offering her an apologetic and bright grin, appearing wordlessly in the opposite chair. Mai is certain that she will never get used to the dark green dresses that Ty Lee wears now, and thinks with a certain amount of deprecation how it blends in with the leaves of the garden's azalea and hydrangea bushes. She's heard that the islanders of Kyoshi wear blue, and that the green of the Kyoshi Warriors' uniforms was only an attempt at Earth Kingdom cosmopolitanism, but no matter how she tries to envision Ty Lee in peasant clothes, she always imagines Ty Lee wearing pink.

Oblivious to Mai's ire, Ty Lee continued. "Well, besides your usual gloominess."

"Ha-ha." Mai deadpanned, dabbing delicately at the corners of her mouth with a lace napkin. "Sorry I didn't see you come in, I thought you were a shrub."

Ty Lee giggled, pouring herself a cup of tea. "I came from work." She apologized, gesturing to the length of her torso, and what was presumably her civilian uniform. "But I kind of like it. You should see our dress uniforms."

Mai's face made it very clear how she felt about Earth Kingdom fashion, making Ty Lee laugh again.

"I'm just glad you feel better." Mai replied drolly as she took the teapot. She watched carefully as Ty Lee happily wafted the tea steam, exuding a contented sigh when she took a sip and settled comfortably into the chaise. Unsurprised that she was unable to find a trace of the fatigue or moodiness that Zuko had spoke of, Mai returned to observing her tea leaves quietly.

"I love summer, don't you?" Ty Lee mused breezily. "It makes me feel…relaxed. Calm? No…" She wrinkled her nose, her fingertips waving in the air as if she could pluck the words from it. "Something with an "uhm" sound."

"Comfortable." Mai supplied without missing a beat, mildly disgusted by how easy it was to fit into Ty Lee's thinking patterns.

"Yeah!" Ty Lee exclaimed. "I feel comfortable."

They had met like this for as long as Ty Lee had returned to the Fire Nation, casually and with no pattern beyond whenever Mai felt like it, and when Ty Lee had the time. Sequestered away in the most private corners of the palace, Mai tolerated Ty Lee's inane prattling, and allowed for the other girl to fill the silences she deliberately left unattended.

They never spoke of the old days, they never talked about how Ty Lee's search for her place in the world had locked her somewhere she was unable to leave, or how Zuko's ascension to the throne had left Mai exactly where she had been so desperate to escape. They talked inconsequentially, moving from one innocuous subject to the next, moving in circles for the sake of companionship.

And to Mai's gratitude, they never discussed the single element that had united them, who had brought them together and the conspicuous emptiness that was always present when they met under the leaves of the palaces' verdant garden. How it always felt that someone was missing.

It was agonizing to admit what she was about to do.

Mai wasn't stupid, and Ty Lee wouldn't have lied if she were pressed, but without a spoken word between them, the Fire Lady knew that Ty Lee had been visiting Azula in the depths of a sanatorium. It was an open secret that Mai had guessed immediately, and before long so had the rest of the capital and whoever else choosing to keep their ear to politics and common sense. In the meantime, Ty Lee talked about everything between the sky and the earth except for Azula, whether out of deference for Mai's new station or a personal affliction of masochism, Mai didn't want to know.

But if she were honest, Mai would admit that she had grown a little proud of the farce they insisted on keeping, how long they had been hiding from the reality they had created together.

"It's nice to see you're doing well." Mai said honestly.

Ty Lee smiled, plucking a plum from the fruit plate and rolling it across the back of her hand. "How about you?"

"Don't marry a politician, Ty Lee." Mai said darkly, remembering her previous thoughts and eliciting a laugh from her friend.

"By the way, your mother sends her  _regards_."

"I hope you told her to kiss off." Ty Lee rolled her eyes, fully knowing that the Fire Lady wasn't in a position to do anything of the sort.

"She wanted to know why her letters were being refused. And when you're going to 'stop this nonsense and come home.'"

"I don't get how she expects  _me_  to help. " Ty Lee said bitterly, as if to say  _look at me,_ with the faintest hint of a pout on her lips. "And you can tell her to kiss the bright red side of my posterior aura." While their tones were glacial and they spoke trivially, the line that had been drawn between their families glowed like a faintly-healed scar. Mai's blood came from the highest of the noble houses, her ancestors having produced a tradition of prominent statesmen for hundreds of years. Her marriage to Zuko had singled her family out as the only noble house in financial stability.

Ty Lee's family held a lower fiefdom and so for generations served the crown by providing their children as soldiers or brides to the Fire Lord's allies. Ty Lee had fit into one of these categories, and her sisters the other, and with all of them serving Ozai's fallen regime, Ty Lee's house was falling into ruin. The matriarch was grabbing at straws.

"That's what I said." Mai mumbled and moved to pick up her teacup, as if suddenly finding something distasteful in her mouth. "Basically, anyways."

Ty Lee shrugged half-heartedly, her thin eyebrows knitting together as she glowered at the fruit in her hand. From the corner of her eye, Mai watched carefully as clarity settled over the younger girl's face, a determination that overrode the seriousness of what Mai was trying to broach.

"You know what we should do?" Ty Lee's eyes lit up timely as she started to grow excited. "We should go to the Summer's End Festival. I know Zuko's always busy, but you can come with me! We could grab some spice apples, watch the fireworks…Oh, it'll be so fun!" She continued to talk at length about the fireworks, gesturing with her spread hands to illustrate the illuminations of the explosions.

But Mai wasn't thrown, and she watched the younger girl's antics with a tested eye.

"Don't you usually have a date to those things?" Mai asked absently, her mind riffling a million miles a minute that she barely caught the way Ty Lee's face fell momentarily.

"I kind of wanted to go with a friend this time." She said wistfully, dropping the plum onto her plate, untouched.

Like every lie Ty Lee told, the words were true, but betrayed the story she wasn't telling. Mai guessed that it had less to do with dating troubles than with Azula's suicide and the impending summit that might soon negate the girl's miraculous survival. She tried not to think about the Ba Sing Se Tribunals, or about the fourteen year old girl she had betrayed for a childhood love. "Sorry, I can't."

 _I never wanted this._  She wanted to say as Ty Lee forced brightness grew leaden. The Avatar's triumph had become theirs, when she had only wanted to save Zuko's life, and their treason meant that they stood on opposing sides of new societal lines. Mai might have been the trigger, but Ty Lee had always been the keystone. Their momentous betrayal sat in the dark, while Ty Lee, who had moved the wave of the Fire Nation's war movement, was being devoured by the world she had helped to save.  _It wasn't supposed to be like this._

A thick silence passed and Ty Lee looked stunned, and Mai realized that she had spoken every word aloud. With all thoughts of a slow and careful approach thrown out of the window in a moment of carelessness, Mai stiffened her shoulders and tried to prepare herself as she tore the tenuous remains of their friendship asunder, as she shoved them onto opposing sides of a different war.

"Mai, are you okay?"

Mai took a frigid sip of her tea, her eyes conveying irritation by the apparent alarm that her friend didn't even try to hide. Sometimes it briefly occurred to her that she was giving Ty Lee too much credit, and the girl really was as air headed as she appeared. Resolved, she bit the bullet.

"Take Azula to the festival, Ty Lee." She muttered, as Ty Lee blanched. She breezed on, her words outpacing her thoughts, as if the matter of breaking a coded oath and the fragility of their sanctuary amounted to nothing more than getting it over with as soon as possible. "Who knows, maybe she'll even enjoy it."

"Um." Ty Lee stammered, reaching a hand to the table as if steadying herself.

"The summit is deliberating over the demilitarization of Fire Nation, and Azula's case is on the agenda. Our delegation doesn't have a clue on what to do about her, and Zuko is lucky if he can negotiate himself out of a dark closet," Mai said in a single breath.

"Wait, I don't get-"

Grabbing Ty Lee's elbow and pulling her so that she could see the gray-brown of the younger girl's widened eyes, Mai knew that she was scaring her. But if she had to blame it on someone, it would be on Ty Lee and the stupid girl's inability to see the dangers she put herself in.

"I know you have this personal need to martyr yourself, but you're being stupid." It had been one thing to defect to the Kyoshi Warriors and the Earth Kingdom, but it was quite another to return and make daily visits to a dungeon. She had been inclined to agree with Ty Lee's mother, had she not known how desperately the older woman was trying to use her last unmarried daughter as a political bride. Ty Lee had failed to pick a side, and the fences were fast climbing, fences that Mai and Zuko's rule had made.

 _It's only to protect her_ , she thinks to herself.  _It's not out of guilt or regret, and it's not because I have delusions of what Azula might be._

"I'm telling you this because I have no idea what you're expecting from Azula. Whatever you're doing, it's a horrible idea." Mai said, low and even. She thinks to herself that maybe Ty Lee is everything that she imagines the girl has grown up to be, because the shock has evaporated from the girl's eyes and is replaced with a somber intelligibility that said Mai was treading thinly. With both of them, Azula was a subject that neither had a deep patience for.

"Mai…" Ty Lee started without a trace of humor or leniency. Her skin beneath Mai's grip paled, her forearm and hand flushed with red. "Please, you're hurting me."

She pulled her hand away, letting Ty Lee collect herself, and tried not to be bothered with how the silence was considerably more tolerable than the way Ty Lee was looking at her like she was a stranger.

"You're forgetting who she is, what she's  _like_." The Fire Lady continued, subdued. "A few years in a hospital isn't going to change her. We had some good moments together, but that doesn't mean she's a good person deep down somewhere."

"Mai, stop." Ty Lee pleaded, shutting her eyes. "I know, okay? That's not what I'm trying to do."

"I don't know what you're hoping for."

"Mai, I know you're worried, but it's okay, I know what I'm doing."

 _No, you don't._  But she had reached the most she was going to get from the younger girl, and Mai wasn't willing to push further when she had made her point. It wasn't her place to lecture Ty Lee, and frankly, she didn't want to. There was something disturbing and sick in the way her friend was unwilling to let go of the past, something that turned Mai's stomach to acid. As much as she wanted to sway Ty Lee from her path, she didn't want to linger longer than she could tolerate. "Fine." She said instead.

In the void left by the aborted conversation, a tenseness fell around them that signaled the near end of their meeting. They looked at each other, unsurely, as if testing the awkward space between them. Exhausted by their exchange, it seemed that neither girl was willing to make another attempt at civility. Always the politer one, Ty Lee rose from her chair and made an excuse about having to teach classes and saying that she would be back another time, and Mai accepted it, knowing that the time would never come. She had broken something between them, mentioning Azula had brought the princess into their refuge as surely as if the girl herself had walked into the garden, gleaming armor, crown, bloodthirsty smile and all. By mentioning the summit, Mai had reminded them that they weren't on the same side anymore.

Regret touches her heart as she watched her childhood friend ascend the stairs that lead back into the palace. She remembers a time when Ty Lee used to balance on her hands, never walking when she could cartwheel, flip, or dance her way to wherever she wanted to go. When Mai was younger, it was an issue of aggravation, when now its absence only pains her. Ty Lee had never been carefree, and her smiles never fully honest, but she had something that she lacked now. Mai couldn't pinpoint it, and the feeling nagged at her. It reminded her of Ty Lee's auras.

Mai was searching for a word.

"Mai?"

The Fire Lady blinked and realized that she had been staring. Ty Lee had stopped and turned to look back at her, hovering at the top of the stairs and facing her, unsurely and expectant. Mai is never nostalgic, she doesn't have the inclination and can never stomach the need to dwell on the past.

Even so, she can't help but clench her jaw as she spoke through gritted teeth. "What is it?"

The feeling was persistent, and Ty Lee's eyes shone with a heartbreak she had already resigned herself to.

"What do you think they're going to do with Azula?"

Mai had no qualms with lying, she did it often, and often at the expense of others. Like Ty Lee, she spoke half-truths that never told the whole story, playing on what the other girl already knew. Azula had humiliated the entirety of Ba Sing Se, uniting the throne and its puppet master in a single voice. Ozai's life imprisonment had been a paltry recompense, hardly retribution. The war tribunal had only been a prelude, the Fire Nation's dead war ministers and generals only having whetted a dangerous appetite; the Earth Kingdom was screaming for the princess' head on a stake.

What Ty Lee didn't see was that Zuko had an agenda of his own. His own advisors and cabinet feared the old regime, hated the militaristic regime that had been a knife at their necks for a hundred years. The princess' life was the last obstacle to the era of peace and diplomacy that Zuko had promised. She had been her father's heir, the personification of his ideals and all that remained of his legacy. Azula was a shining beacon that represented a very real and legitimate claim to the throne, a banner under which all of Zuko's political opponents and enemies would unite and rally. Even half-crazed or dying, Azula would always be dangerous.

Ty Lee wears green now. It stands amongst the red that bathes the Fire Nation, and burns against the memory of pink skirts and auras. Mai had no qualms with lying, she did it often, but she had already betrayed one friend and wouldn't do it to the one who had saved her. But the whole of Ty Lee's heart and compassion couldn't have saved Azula from the fate she was destined for, all of Ty Lee's worry and pity couldn't save the princess anyways.

So she spoke a half-truth. "I don't know, but we have the state minister defending her." And half-way through her last sentence, it hits her. "She'll be okay." She remembers what Ty Lee used to be.

Ty Lee turns until her body is draped in the shadows made from the eaves of the palace and the stark light of the sun. She looks older than eighteen, burdened by something invisible, the poise that had been in her shoulders, forgotten. She was dispirited and defeated. If there was a fight to be won, it wasn't inside the girl to keep going.

Her profile crumples into the darkness, leaving spots of bursting color in Mai's eyes that reminds her of forests and the grass of the earth. Something inside her wanted to call out to the girl, to bring her back and return to the isolation they had created together. But something had been moving far faster than either of them had dreaded would, pushing them into future, dragging servant, queen, and disgraced royalty alike into the light of the new world. Mai didn't believe in spirits, auras, or gods, but if she ever prayed for salvation or the ability of beings larger than themselves to keep them safe, she was praying now.


	10. Brutalism

There were many tragedies in life, humiliations and failures that remained shameful no matter how desperately one tried to salvage their name from the mud. Azula used to think that it was a fate that those of lowly birth or a predisposed inferiority were destined for, when instead humiliation had crept up as a painfully ill-conceived and unimaginative coup on the day of her coronation, and failure as the mere inability for her to control the simplest aspects of her own life. But as much as she had tasted debasement and the irreparable state of her personal honor, she was sure that this one had to be the absolute worst.

"Now look at the ink blot and tell me what you see."

Her hands had been clenched into fists, resting on the table as she very politely, and patiently, stomached the asinine monkey dance that she had been tortuously subjected to for past days. Her middle and forefinger stretched out, pressing the edge of the paper that had been presented to her, and the steel cuff on her wrist screeched against the metal table as she dragged the indecipherable, amorphous picture back towards her.

She lifted her eyes to the young doctor, letting a smile pull at her lips when she saw the wince decorating the attendant's face, and flickered back to the dark ink pool. Azula wondered musingly out of how many other medical students this one had to draw the short straw from in order to be sitting here. She was impressed. They had been looking at these childish drawings for fifteen minutes now. The man yesterday hadn't lasted five.

"These exercises are just protocol, Princess Azula." The woman said mousily, practically disappearing behind the writing tablet held in front of her face.

"So you continue to remind me." Azula sighed. "Very well, since we might as well get this over with." She narrowed her eyes and turned the picture on its side.

Behind her, there was a restless shift of heavy boots and leather armor, the ever-present reminder of another thing she had failed to accomplish. In the hospital at Wuhan, they had stood outside of her cell, always there, but mercifully out of sight. Now, they stood next to her bed as she slept, hovered during her mealtimes, and watched as she bathed. A gift from her brother, no doubt. It had been demeaning, but in the end, another thing that she was forced to live with.

"You don't have to push yourself." The doctor stammered. "If your headaches return, we can always postpone."

Azula waved her off in irritation, studying the picture with the perfect face of determination and diligent commitment, as she rotated it at different angles. She snapped her fingers. "It's rabbit-hamsters in a field of flowers and rainbows."

"Really?" The woman blinked incredulously at this apparent miracle of science, her stylus hovering over the writing tablet as she poised herself for a maddening stream of notes.

"Or the steaming organs of immolated Earth Kingdom children, I haven't decided."

The doctor looked faint.

But before Azula could thoroughly begin to enjoy herself, the door slammed open and a figure burdened with tall sacks of market and grocery purchases burst into the room, mercifully saving the doctor and shattering the beginnings of the first good mood Azula was having in months.

"Hey Azula!" Ty Lee chirped, poking her head from around the bags in her arms. Her eyes widened at the two women sitting at a table, freezing between the princess' icy glower and the doctor's wide eyes pleaded that beseechingly with her to end what had undoubtedly been a long and horrible suffering. "Oops."

"My headache is back." Azula announced darkly, placing the picture back onto the table.

Ty Lee wilted, awkwardly shuffling the bags in her arms until one of the guards dutifully relieved her and began inspecting the contents. "I'm interrupting, aren't I?"

"Yes," Azula snapped at the same time the doctor said 'no.'

"What I meant to say was," The doctor hastened to continue, all but leaping from her chair as she furiously began gathering her papers together. "We were just about finished." She said with a plastered-on smile, haphazardly shoving pictures of ink blots into her leather satchel with such speed that some appeared torn.

"So soon?" Azula lamented dryly, her eyes following the retreating woman. "But I have so many more feelings to share."

Ty Lee flinched as the door clapped shut, a shiver running down her spine at the sound of a deadbolt being thrown into place. The thought of what kind of report the woman would be writing made her heart sink.

She wrung her hands, waiting for the guard to finish inspecting the contents of her bags, finally flashing him a smile when he nodded and passed them back.

"All clear." He said gruffly, walking past her to retake his post as the edges of the room.

 _Of course_ , she wanted to say, but moved to let him pass, having learned a while ago that there were few people that had any inclination to listen to what she had to say.

She placed the bags on the table, looking down to see that Azula had returned to inspecting her woefully blunt nails with disgust.

"I wish you would be nicer to people sometimes." Ty Lee mumbled, removing a bundle of flowers from one of the sacks and began sorting the stems one by one.

"And you would know all about that wouldn't you?" Azula replied smartly, not looking up.

Ty Lee bit her lip, feeling the sting of the princess' remark, but concentrated on the bouquet of flowers she was arranging. She consoled herself in knowing that it was still a vast improvement from when Azula had first awoken, when after their initial meeting, the princess had lapsed into days of silence and a blatant refusal to acknowledge that the other girl even existed. The Four Nations Summit had proceeded in earnest in her absence, and Azula's trial had been successfully pushed back to accommodate the princess' recovery. They would have one last day together, and Mai's advice rang hauntingly in her ears.

Moving to the nightstand at the head of Azula's bed, Ty Lee removed the old flowers from the vase she had placed days before, primping the leaves and petals of her new arrangement.

"I told you to stop bringing those." Azula says behind her, but Ty Lee is busy turning the vase so that the fresh blossoms caught the sunlight, and the acidity of the princess' voice sloughed off with years of practice.

"They brighten the room." Ty Lee said happily, smiling in satisfaction to herself, petting a purple lilac. "It gets so depressing in here."

"Wonderful, now it can smell like a manure-field as well."

Ty Lee sighed, pulling the withering stalks of the old dying flowers together and dropping them into the nearby dustbin. When she looks back over her shoulder, Azula is still faced away from her, her shoulders hitched and elbows propped on the table.

She reminds herself that this is what she's wished for, what she's prayed for since years into the past when she was fifteen and just beginning to grasp the full weight of her actions. There are no drugs, no herbs to dull the potency of Azula's anger, no bars to contain her or chains to hold her. Even at the very start, when defeat had been new and it had still made her cry when Azula had screamed things like "traitor" and words like "betrayal" and "coward" had sounded like actual insults instead of thing she wore on her skin, it had been different. But now Azula sits at the table, clear-eyed and flexing her hands like she's trying to recall something mighty and primeval, and instead of the fear, Ty Lee feels only nostalgia.

"I got you something from the bookseller too." She continued, sweeping up fallen petals with her hands. "I was passing by the stall and then I thought that you were probably getting bored when you're here by yourself. I didn't know what you would like but then I-oh! It's on the bottom." She said, her heart leaping into her throat when she looked up and saw that Azula had broken the frigidity of her posture and was pulling one of the bags towards her.

Azula winced-barely, and completely invisible to anyone else who might have been looking. But Ty Lee, who liked to think of herself as knowing the younger girl better than anyone else in the world, saw instantly the way pain jolted from Azula's wrist, blooming inside the heavy iron cuff, and up the length of her bandaged arm.

"I'll get it." She yelped, leaping forward to take the bag back. Plunging her hands deep into its contents, she tried very hard to concentrate on stalling the flow of blood to her rapidly reddening cheeks, and not on the look Azula was giving her. "There's a lot of stuff." She added quickly. "The food here looks kind of horrible so I guess I got carried away at the market…" She trailed off.

Azula didn't reply, gingerly plucking the slim novel from Ty Lee's hand, and examining the cover. Her eyes narrowed as she read aloud, "House Amidst the Red Reeds."

Ty Lee beamed, elated that Azula had finally exhibited an interest in something and was now thumbing through the pages. "It's great! Remember when we read it in school? I couldn't find any books on military history or political science, but this kind of has something to do with all that if you think about it. It's hard to read at times, but it's this romantic and really sad story about a boy and a girl who were childhood friends who grow up and end up getting married. But something happens and the boy has to leave to fight for his country and he ends up getting killed. But the girl-" She freezes, her eyes glued to the small book that was now sailing through the air, forming a perfect arc before it landed with a resounding thud into the dustbin with the dead flowers.

Azula stands up and walks away, popping her neck muscles with a content sigh as she rolled her shoulders and moved to the bed. Pulling at her metal collar with an annoyed grimace, she laid down with her back at Ty Lee, signaling the end of the conversation that had died before it even had a chance to start.

Ty Lee retrieves the discarded book, brushing it off and straightening the pages that had been bent in its fall. Even with the guards at the edges of the room and their faces hidden by the shadow of their helmets, Ty Lee's cheeks flush again when she feels their eyes boring into her. She doesn't want their pity, like she knows Azula doesn't want hers.

She places the book on the nightstand , neatly next to the vase, watching the stiffness in Azula's shoulders.

This is the part when she's supposed to leave, to gather her things and say goodbye until tomorrow. Her visits are short, she never stays longer than they can both tolerate. Ty Lee likes to think that she's learned the difference between stupidity and hope.

Azula's window is barred, like the one at Wuhan. When Ty Lee looks beyond it, she can see the rooftops of the shopping district and the little figures of people milling in the streets. The air smells like charcoal from the street-vendors, the faintest hint of the turning seasons, and the summers of bygone years.

Azula dealt with people with a methodical calculation of wit and cunning, Mai did it through a cold measurement of odds, but Ty Lee has only ever followed the paths that others had laid before her. Mai's words haunted her, and staring at the stoic figure on the bed, Ty Lee knew that her friend had been correct as well.

After following through with Zuko's wishes, the hospital pulled all medication from Azula's regimen. It entailed a powerful and fierce withdrawal, of which the last vestiges the princess was just emerging from. Ty Lee had watched how as with any other hardship, Azula had endured the sickness and feverish delirium unflinchingly and with a staunch determination that bordered on rebellion. It reminded Ty Lee that even so far from where they had started, some things never changed.

Ty Lee wasn't clever or underhanded, and it was hard for her to see beyond what was apparent. But some things remained plainly clear, even if only to her. Sometimes Azula could be so horribly obvious.

"Come with me to the Summer's End Festival." She said with her hand against the window frame. She doesn't turn to see Azula's reaction, but she knew that the other girl had heard, and with the sound of the soft rustling of bed sheets, she knew that the princess was looking at her. "It'll be nice."

There was a faint clinking of metal, and a voice that was surprisingly even and not entirely unkind, "And what would possibly possess me to do something like that?"

"Well I talked with everyone-" Everyone being Mai, the doctors, and an obligatory appeal to Zuko, but Ty Lee didn't think that it would have been smart to mention any of that. "And they said that it would be a great idea! It's been so long since you've been outside, and it'll be good to get some fresh air and your strength back up. We can look at the vendors, see the city, catch the fireworks- "

"Are you  _completely_  stupid?"

The breath catches in Ty Lee's throat and she think she's been doing pretty well so far, so she doesn't feel guilty about needing to swallow to get the dryness out of her mouth. "I thought it could be fun. I wasn't trying to be pushy or anything. If you're still tired then we can hang out here. I thought that you would be worried about the trial tomorrow and it would be good to get your mind off-"

Azula surged out of the bed in less a heartbeat, and Ty Lee realized that she had never really appreciated how tall Azula had become until their faces were mere inches apart, and the younger girl stood towering over her ominously. Again, Ty Lee comforted herself knowing that lesser people had stood where she was today, in less favorable circumstances, without guards that looked poised to try rescuing her, and had still lived to tell about it.

"What do you want, Ty Lee?"

Mostly, anyways.

It was mysteriously hard to meet Azula's eyes. The best she could think about was the pitying look that Mai had given her when they last spoke, and the varying degrees of truth that she knew were inherent in the girl's candor and uncharacteristic honesty. It cuts deeper than any look Azula can pin her with, poisoning the façade she used to fall back on so easily.

"Nothing, I-" She swallows again, the hollow of the princess' neck suddenly becoming very interesting. "I just want you to come to the festival with me."

The room freezes, and for a second Ty Lee thinks that Azula really is going to strangle her for daring to lie to her face. But eventually the moment passes, and Azula backs away, and in the corner of her eye, Ty Lee can see the guards sagging in relief. She finds herself releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

It was surprisingly easy to obey the commands that Azula wordlessly made. It's somewhere between a bad habit and an end she feels destined to make.

"I know what you're trying to do."

Her words are soft, almost whispered. Azula looks more disappointed than she does angry. It bothers Ty Lee, who would rather deal with the princess' ire, disgust, or anything vaguely relating to what she's used to. But Azula won't stop looking at her, and Ty Lee's skin grows hot underneath the collar of her shirt.

"Honestly, Ty Lee. I expected more. Even from you."  _Especially from you_ , she seemed to say.

The feeling of fear is still strangely missing. She wonders when she stopped being afraid, when she stopped living off the legacies they've built up for themselves, and when she started to think for herself. She wonders if it started the day she saw Azula's bloody body come screaming back to life on the morgue table, or when the sight of the princess naked under bandages and threadbare hospital shifts forced her to see Azula as something less than an invulnerable conqueror of nations and as something more like a human being.

"I'm not going to the festival with you." It's said with a finality that lets Ty Lee know that the matter was beyond discussing. It tells her that Azula has always been stubborn and that for as long as she can remember, Azula has always gotten what she wanted.

Azula brushes past her, reaching the door and calling sharply for the guards waiting on the other side, echoing a request Ty Lee hadn't made about leaving and going home.

But the door opens, and between the faces of the sentries who blink at her in open confusion, and Azula who waits impatiently for her to be gone, she remembers the pity that had come so easily from the princess' ever-present wardens and caretakers. In a moment of hesitation, she looks back and through Azula's new window she can see the rooftops of the city again, and the sounds of the people below. The air smells like charcoal from the street-vendors, the faintest hint of the turning seasons, and the summers of their youth.

And she gets an idea.

* * *

"What am I doing at the festival with you?"

Azula simmers with outrage, but Ty Lee is having the time of her life. Behind them, Azula's pair of guards shuffle awkwardly through the crowd, trying their best to simultaneously keep them moving through the street while deflecting the curious gazes of passer-bys.

"Don't worry, 'Zula. We'll have lots of fun today!" Ty Lee beamed.

The festival is even brighter than she had anticipated, glowing in the excitement of the city's party-goers and thrill-seekers. She noted that the decorations this year weren't quite as vivid or well-thought out as the previous year. In fact, some parts of the festival looked downright shabby, and there was a noticeable decline in the number of attendees as well. Not that she was complaining. Less competition for the lines and all.

Ty Lee had surprised herself with how easy it was to play into the sympathies of the guards, to sway their hearts with well-timed illusions of sadness and strategic appeals their masculine sense of honor and chivalry. Apparently that was all it had taken to recruit their assistance in taking Azula out for "one last day of fun and adventure" before the upcoming trial.

"Best idea ever." She hummed happily to herself.

"What did you say?" Azula glowered darkly.

"Oh look,  _spice apples_!" Ty Lee exclaimed before detaching herself from the entourage and bravely plunging into a practically revolting mass of people gathered near the street vendors. She hoped privately that by the time she made it out of the line, the princess would have resigned herself to her fate enough for them to properly enjoy the rest of the season's celebrations. By the way things looked as Azula was being led away to a secluded corner of the park, it would take significant doing.

But the day was still young, and Ty Lee was determined to be positive.

Ten minutes later Ty Lee emerged from the tumultuous rabble with the hot, sticky treats in hand, balancing the sticks between her fingers as she ducked and weaved through the crowd. She finds the princess sitting on a park bench, flanked by her escorts, and glaring.

"One for you." Ty Lee smiled good-naturedly as she made her way over and slipped spiced apple sticks into the hands of the guards. "And one for you."

"And one for you, sweet sugar cakes." Ty Lee said in a very poor impersonation of a teenaged male, hoping that the memory of their last shared social activity would rouse positive feelings of nostalgia. Judging by the way Azula's face was a mask of pure indignation, it hadn't worked.

"How delightful." Azula deadpanned.

"Oh come on, Azula." Ty Lee said, patting imaginary dust from the park bench before taking a careful seat next to the princess, taking care to make sure there was a measured space between them. "You loved these when we were kids!"

The younger girl sneered. "Over-seasoned junk food, I don't think so." She said and in a single motion, pulled a bundle of paper napkins from Ty Lee's hand, upended the spice apple into it, and shoved the whole mess into the chest of one of the guards. The poor man who had been doing his best to finish his snack as fast as he could, sputtered as the princess' actions upset the delicate balance of weaponry and foodstuffs, wilting as his apple plopped pitifully to the ground.

"This is the sorriest excuse of a festival I've ever seen."

Ty Lee licked diligently at the candy coating of her fruit, her eyebrows furrowed as she remembered how hard these things were to eat. "It's not  _so_ bad. I think it's kind of nice." She offered, determined to keep an air of optimism between them, but knowing that the last time Azula had seen any sort of public celebration, the Fire Nation had been prosperous and the wealth of their empire innumerable.

There was the beginnings of a sneer on Azula's lips, but she didn't reply. She was staring into the high vaunting of the buildings, the long planes of rock, wood, and mortar that loomed over the market and the people. Her eyes floated over the faces of the festival patrons, following up with the lines of the houses and tracing the cracks in wood and peels of varnish, trying to find the city she knew in a country that seemed so determined to forget her.

"They should be bowing down to me." Azula said a little while later, still looking at the skyline, and Ty Lee glances back at the masses of festival passersby that wreathe the landscape of twisting streets and shops.

Their glassy faces and the uniform colors of the festival gave them a glazed look of ubiquitous anonymity as they marched pass the park and the bench the two girls rested on. Soldiers are everywhere now, and no one spares them anything except passing glances to Azula's guards before moving on.

The city rises above them, the shambled skeletons of a dying age. If there was a time their nation had been great, if the Fire Nation had been proud and its people driven and devoted to a destiny of greatness they had been promised to achieve, it wasn't who they were now.

The world passes through them, the reanimated figments of an ancient city reflected in the molten steel of Azula's eyes.

"They don't recognize you, 'Zula." Ty Lee says quietly. "You look different."

Azula doesn't reply, and for a long time they both sit watching the festival and the ebb and flow of the market. The gentle murmuring of the streets is a soft drone in the distance, already disappearing into time, and Ty Lee imagines that in another place far away, it's transformed into the whispers of adoration for a princess with unfettered limbs and unbroken shoulders.

Home used to mean warmth, a light that shone behind her and guided her travels with a security that came with knowing that something would be waiting when everything was finally over. It used to mean running through the fields of her family's villa with the sun in her hair, reveling in the carefree days of training at the academy, and knowing that there was some place where she belonged. But now whenever she thinks of the Fire Nation, she thinks of bodies lying in mass graves, and how the red of their flags now stood for the blood of their fathers who died so the rest of the world could remember their shame, while the bones of their children rotted away, forgotten in foreign lands.

Ty Lee wonders later if despondency can be taken for a false sense of security, and the sudden prickling in Azula's posture is only a split-second warning before a familiar voice jars her harshly into reality.

"Ty Lee?"

Her heart plummets, all the hopes of having a pleasant evening outing with Azula vanishing with the figure that materializes from the crowd. Suki's face is a mask of white when she spies the other figure on the park bench, and Ty Lee's head is running a hundred miles a minute and she suddenly feels very nauseous.


	11. And the Worship of the Machine

It feels like a nightmare in slow motion.

Suki wasn't supposed to be here. Ty Lee knew because she had calculated the timing of the personnel schedule from the morning's itinerary. There was supposed to be an endless stream of meetings with ambassadors and advisors that required the presence of the Kyoshi Warriors' leader, but now that it was apparent that she had been sorely mistaken.

Azula slowly rises to her feet beside her, and the full weight of the situation seized Ty Lee with an icy fist around her throat.

Her smile comes on like her livelihood had been made on it, and although her words are hollow, she waves enthusiastically and bursts into motion. "Hey Suki!" She runs the entire way to where Suki is standing, leaving Azula and the guards far away. Behind her, she feels Azula watching them, feels the way her stare burns into her back. "It's so cool that you made it to the festival! Waiting to see the fireworks?"

Ty Lee is sure that her own face is frozen in a horribly mockery of an already-transparent and old pretension, and Suki is speechless. Her eyes are wide with comprehension and fixed to the figure that Ty Lee knows is floating distantly over her shoulder. Her rigid body is wound tight like coiled steel under bright lights and festival garments, and Ty Lee understands the irony in spending her entire life under the command of others and how she stands between these two people now.

Azula can look into people's eyes and see the entirety of their lives. Ty Lee sees it in the way people move, breathe, speak, and every movement that exudes a color, a light, a figment of their soul that bleeds around them in waves, telling a story, a history, a future.

She wonders if she sees the fear that arises in Suki before Azula does, if the flicker of terror that streaks across Suki's halo is just her own imagination, and if she herself has always been doomed to betray her friendships as if certain friendships weren't already betrayals.

She anticipates everything in Suki's aura. It reminds her of Mai's, but instead of outrage, she sees dread, and instead of revulsion, it's pity, and out of all things it's the pity and disappointment that hits her in the chest and wakes her to the realization that Suki has known for years, that there was nothing more to hide, and the only thing either of them was doing now was waiting.

"Hey what's going on?"

There's a larger cosmic joke being played, Ty Lee was sure of it. As surely as she finds the voice that arises from the clamorous din of the streets, she finds the light of Sokka's blue eyes, and watches helplessly as his smile falls. There's an ill-placed measure of sympathy, of camaraderie that blooms inside her as she sees the transformation across his face, his familiar ease turning into a darkness, an ingrained contempt and instinctive hatred.

"What's this?"

It's accusing and fraught with a biting hostility. It cuts deeply, reminding her painfully through the clever and well-made artifices of the life she had so carefully built, that it was still a sham. She remembers his begrudging acceptance, his guarded enthusiasm, how no matter how jovial his appearance his smile never reached his eyes when he looked at her, and that the suspicions and ire of the Fire Nation didn't matter. In the minds of the rest of the world, the victory had been won by the blood and noble sacrifices of the warriors who had given their lives and families for freedom, and not by the chance and momentary decisions of a single girl.

"What's going on?"

Anything she might have said in an attempt to defend herself disappears. She doesn't remember the last time anyone had cared about her opinion or what she thought. She remembers summer nights with bonfires and stars, the dark sky stretching out forever and how small their problems began to seem in the vastness of time. She thinks about the fears and dreams they confessed to each other, the demises they were afraid that awaited them, and wonders if Azula has ever felt cursed.

"The trial's tomorrow and you're with  _her_?"

"Sokka, wait-" Suki begins.

"No, I want to hear it from Ty Lee." He's furious, and he's not searching for an explanation as much as he's looking for a reason to finally prove what he's known all along.

Ty Lee's mouth opens, not sure what she intended to say. Her words are a mirror, reflecting what people expect in her and she's hid behind them for so long that she's beginning to forget which of her thoughts were just parts of her constructed identities, and which were truly her own.

"After everything? Everything she's done?" He starts shouting. "All the people she's hurt? All the people she's killed?"

"Sokka, stop it!" Suki grabs his elbow, frightened at the unmitigated display of his anger. The marginal distance between Sokka and Ty Lee unnerves her, and she slips into it as if all it takes is a physical barrier. "She can be with whoever she wants to." There's a slight edge to her voice that Ty Lee doesn't trust. It tells her that everything she's dreaded is true, that the hurt she sees simmering in Suki is more than just a manifestation of her guilt. There's no concrete defense in her words, they're weak and they float away like air when Ty Lee realizes that they're only said for the sake of her presence.

"After everything Suki's done for you?" Sokka continues, his voice now hushed and baleful.

It's purposely exploitative because out of all people in the world, it's Ty Lee who understands better than anyone. She understands-more than anyone should have needed to-that it wasn't purely through merits, hard work, or ethics that bought your place in life, and it was only through the kindness in others that she has gotten this far. The outrage of her countrymen still stings like a poorly healed scar, and Suki's compassion had soothed her wounds even before their tenuous relationship could have begun to be called a friendship.

Ty Lee sleeps in bunks instead of beds, barracks instead of houses, but it's still a home and a life that someone else has given her.

She remembers cold evenings that moved into slowly warming morning, the chilling mist breaking apart in a dawning sun. She remembers what it was like to stand in a singular frozen moment in time, the precise point that branched equidistant to her past and the moment when she would realize that all that remained of Azula was rotting flesh and bones.

Suki had been…kind. Motherly, even. A constant in a lifetime of changing variables.

"Do you even know what she did to Suki?" It lances through Ty Lee like she hadn't been waiting for it, like she hadn't been waiting for Sokka to recall this one thing because it's so plain to everyone that she already knows. She knows because she was there when everything happened.

"Sokka, that's  _enough_!" He's crossed a line, an understanding that had been Ty Lee and Suki's alone. Suki never raised her voice, not even during drills or in the heat of the thickest arguments with the squad captains, but she's yelling now, furious and unbridled.

"It's funny, I remember having Ty Lee beaten as well." A voice says at Ty Lee's elbow. "And it might be the one thing I did in the war that no one really blames me for." Azula smiles, her escort of guards hovering behind her. "Strange, since she didn't seem to enjoy it nearly as much as your girlfriend did."

Sokka rankled, bristling at the implications of the princess' words, but still wise enough to realize bait when it was presented to him. "You're going to get what's coming to you."

It has to be accidental, how Azula stands at her back now when all Ty Lee has done is trail the heels of those that came before her. But Azula's standing here, so close that Ty Lee imagines the breath of her words whispering down the skin of her neck. She has no misguided notions as to what this is; Azula is not defending her, she's defending an idea, a patriotism, the hungering voracity of their fathers, and the propensities for violence that had seeded their births. It overshadows Ty Lee's shame. Azula is disgusted by it, disgusted that Ty Lee would be cowed by people who never had to account for anything in their lives, who won their victories through the power of others, and justified themselves with nothing but the memories of those long dead and gone.

"Not likely." Azula replied dully-almost sadly-entirely uninterested in the tirade the man seems poised to launch. Motionlessly, she seemed to skirt him away, intent on something else. The bottom of Ty Lee's stomach plummeted at Azula's slow smile, trembling faintly at the gaze that flowed through her golden eyes and into Suki's frame.

"But if it isn't my favorite little Earth peasant." Her voice is different-its transformation, surreal-the morose and embittered heaviness evaporating like a mirage, as if her metal bindings hadn't existed at all and the fire was still able to burn inside her.

It's a cold hand laid at the base of Ty Lee's neck, it coils down her spine as surely as if Azula had reached out and touched her to ignite their collective memory of her ease, her quiet acquiescence in being a tool for suffering and torment. If Azula had been the mastermind, Ty Lee had been the machine, and every inch of the scars the princess had made in the skin and bodies of their enemies had been made with Ty Lee's hands, with a covenant, a pledge, a condemnation.

"Azula." Suki says, looking more confident than she felt.

If there had been a  _victim_ of the war, (who existed in the purest and most genuine expressions of the term) Ty Lee was sure that it had to have been Suki, lured beyond the safety of her home with ill-conceived notions of grandeur and idealism. Suki-full of kindness-who had only nurtured her and helped her grow.

"Leave her alone." Sokka practically growled, and this time when he moved to block Suki, the girl didn't protest and instead fell silently beside him. Still, she wasn't without her stubbornness, and Ty Lee supposed that Earth Kingdom women could be just as prideful, even in the most untimely of moments.

 _I know what you really are._  Azula says it without a breath, the same look on her face that Ty Lee had seen countless times over again. She was a ghost, haunting the same dark dungeons and prisons that would bind her. But back then, there had been very little Azula left undone, and in the grim shadows of her dying empire, she had stripped Suki away until there was nothing left. She had flayed her of virtue and honor, dignity and principles, and Ty Lee had been witness to it all; she had seen how everything Suki held dear flee under Azula's terrifying artistry.

It was true that Suki had never broke, never given up hope, but it had been such a thin distinction. It had seemed more pathetic than honorable, and Suki had devolved into something so horrifyingly inhumane that Ty Lee knew that there might as well have been no difference at all.

"Still so brave, I see." Azula says to Suki, making cruelty look so amiable.

The corners of the princess' mouth curled up, and while Suki held her gaze steadily and with the same unfailing strength that had always come so easily to her, Ty Lee could see the curling tendrils of horror. "I'm not afraid of you." Suki's voice is thin like paper

"Azula…" The words die in Ty Lee's mouth, fallen to ash, and while the princess freezes her blood with a single venomous glare, Suki and Sokka (to their credit) pretend like she never spoke at all.

"You're not fooling anyone with that act." Sokka carries on. "You may have Ty Lee and your brother believing you, but people are always going to remember who you are and what you did."

"Well, that's good news." Azula says as if truly gratified. "I was beginning to worry."

"People like you are the worst. You have no sympathy for the people you hurt; you take peoples' families, homes, and lives and you don't even care. If you had wanted to die you should have done it years ago and saved everyone the trouble."

He speaks casually about death like it's never touched him, a curse with no weight, as if his own paths have never brought him through wastelands and killing fields, as if there's nothing that hangs over him overshadowing the memories of his boyhood and the home he left behind. As if Azula has never lost a mother. As if Azula ever had a mother to lose.

Ty Lee remembers then-with all the sadness and shame of its sudden arrival-that no one has told Azula about Ursa's death.

"You would be dead right now if you had really wanted to die. What are we supposed to think, unless suicide is just something else lunatic tyrants can't even do right."

There was a harsh sound, and a terrible pain flamed through the flat of her hand and up her wrist. Suki was looking at her, horrified, and mute. Sokka staggered, his eyes wide and full of comprehension. Behind her, there was the distinct movement of metal as Azula's guards moved to shield her and take her by the arm. She didn't even remember moving, or even being angry.

"I-I…" She stammered as Sokka precariously lifted a palm to the side of his face, all of his thoughts plainly featured in the look he gives her. A hint of red dotted the corner of his mouth and Ty Lee realizes that she had split his lip.

"I'm impressed, Ty Lee." Azula said, almost as stunned as everyone else. "Shutting him up is the most useful thing you've done all day."

A strong insistent hand grabbed her bicep, pulling her away as the other guard took Sokka by the shoulder and ushered them apart. Sokka's face twists into a mask of plain disgust, opening his mouth to say something that she couldn't hear.

"Lady Ty Lee..." The man holding her started, but was interrupted by Sokka lunging against the broad armored figure of the other guard. Azula must have said something to bait him. She stood grinning wolfishly behind the armored human wall that surged to shield them.

Guilt overwhelmed Ty Lee. As betrayed as they had seemed when they first saw the princess, it felt like nothing to how it was now. She let her mind go blank as the guard swiftly pulled them as fast as discretion allowed through the remnants of the festival. They had started to form a gathering of spectators, and while fleeting looks from commoners were harmless, it wouldn't take much beyond a closer inspection to see Azula's highborn bearing and metal cuffs to yield their identities.

Distantly she could still hear Sokka's voice, floating above the crowd and her blood freezes at his words.

"You're a murderer, Azula, and tomorrow everyone will know it! Good luck sleeping with the screams of everyone you've tortured and killed!"

Her name, screamed with all the anger and futility that had poisoned her ambitions, falls over them like a shadow. Like a broken enchantment, the lethargy that had taken hold of the city vaporizes. Complacent eyes shimmer with clarity, and the bystanders who had only slowed to give them cursory looks now stopped, and it seemed for a second that the entirety of the Fire Nation capital was focusing its eyes on Azula.

"The only thing that keeps me up at night is the particularly enjoyable memory of your girlfriend's." Azula tosses the comment over her shoulder, not slowing as she let herself be whisked away by her guards. The congregated crowd parts before them before again enveloping them from behind. In their eyes, Ty Lee saw awe, suspicion, and fear, the crowd only growing larger as through they were attracted through some compulsive desire.

She felt the murmurs flow through them, the whispers and prying stares. Sometimes an indistinct shout would arise, appearing to echo the embittered sentiments that Sokka had ignited, cursing her name and glorifying Zuko's throne. But there were many more who bowed their heads, some kneeling and others standing, but all with lowered eyes that didn't dare look at the princess as she strode by. They saluted her with respectful decorum, drilled into them by a hundred years of societal conventions, and the whispers soon became utterances spoke in delicate tones. They called her by her old titles, the ones afforded to her in the old kingdom. They say it as they pass through the crowd, hurrying as they were half-dragged and half-carried from the city's festival.

_Princess…Your Grace…Your Highness…_

Azula doesn't spare them a single glance.

Ty Lee knows what they say, beyond the islands of the Fire Nation. She's traveled to Kyoshi, to the glacial plains of the Water Tribes, and the shambled cities of the Earth Kingdom. She knows what they say about Ozai, his house, and the people they had lead. They look at them from steep mountains made from the tall towers of their foreign values. Adoration was a perversion of patriotism, fealty only being the chains of oppression. They called their devotion a product of brainwashing.

And at the same time, she remembers a very different story. Greatness was achieved, not inherited, and it felt like a lesson . For every young prince that had been born into his right to the crown, there had been someone else struggling, scheming, fighting their way into distinction and excellence, to reach a level of perfection that their elders and betters would deign to admire. Words like "talent" and "prodigy" meant training until sunset, studying through the night, blisters and broken bones, while others slept in beds of inheritance.

Adoration-to Ty Lee-had felt rather natural, instead of a perverse indoctrination of beliefs.

They left the city plaza as swiftly as they had arrived, slipping into the hospital courtyard through the workers' entrance. The gate clamored shut behind them, encasing them in stone walls. The locks fell grinding into place, and Azula was home.

"You were right, Ty Lee." Azula said as the orderlies appeared with the rest of the princess' retinue of guards. "Today was the most fun I've had in ages." Her smile was ravenous, but horribly sincere as she lifted her chin and undid the high collar of her shirt. Shiny metal gleamed at her neck as she let out a sigh of contentment that steamed in the warm summer air. "You would think they would learn after a while."

"Lady Ty Lee," Someone says and she looks up to see the old guard who had first pulled them away from the festival. Without his helmet, he lost all the intimidating qualities that seemed universal amongst his comrades. She could see the kindness in his stern face when he told her, "I apologize but…the Fire Lord will be wanting to-"

"I understand." She said plaintively, watching with a morbid fascination as the nurses tended to Azula. The chi-locks gave the princess a constant, elevated resting body temperature, and someone had handed her an ice towel, which she used to press gently to her cheek, glaring the whole while(as she usually did) at Ty Lee. "I…I'll tell him, it's fine." She said under the princess' steady gaze, noting the lack of surprise or anger flickering in what should have been a revelation.

She wondered how long Azula had known about her meetings with Zuko.

He nodded and left her alone, but she knew that someone else would follow up and approach Zuko on their own about the matter. She had personally jeopardized whatever slim chance Azula might have had on leniency from the Water Tribes, and knowing it turned Ty Lee's stomach to rot. The whole afternoon outing had been her idea, and still dizzy with what had transpired in the park square, it felt like it was all she could do to not vomit her guts out.

"I'm sorry." She said quietly to the other girl, feeling every inch as stupid and wretched as her words. "It's all my fault, if I hadn't… I can't believe I did that." She finished, blinking tears from her eyes.

Azula didn't respond, standing with the towel in her hand and the top laces of her shirt open. Ty Lee remembered how perfect her hair used to be, how it was a mark of her pride and vanity. Now, a few strands had fallen, displaced and unintentional, clinging to her skin. A muscle in her jaw twitched as she clenched the towel in her fist and flung it into the chest of a nearby nurse.

"Leave us." Azula snapped, banishing the team of attendants from the courtyard. The guards remained, but she waited for the last orderly to leave before she spoke again.

"I've always known you were an idiot, but I suppose even idiocy can be underestimated."

Ty Lee flinched. "I'm sorry." She said again.

"That's all you ever are. If you ever took a moment from being sorry for yourself and everyone around you, maybe you could grow enough of a spine and do something about it." Azula continued, growing heated and vicious. "Honestly, what were you expecting? That you could walk the middle ground forever? Grow up!"

Perhaps it was because it had been so long since the last time anyone had been truly honest with her. Maybe it was because she had forgotten how to speak with anyone who wasn't walking around eggshells and landmines with her and that she had failed to remember that behind the stinging, backhanded disdain of Azula's remarks could be unflinching and unforgiving astuteness. But for a second, her breath left her in a giant rush, Azula's words seeping into her and joining with the nausea and sickness that was already inside her. She waited for the rest of her derision, but it never came, if only for the fact that the princess was unwilling to show the levels of her contempt in front of people who answered to those who would use it against her.

The silence rotted, and the pointed looks from the armored entourage was enough of a hint. Blindly, she turned and started to grope for the door handle.

"What do you want, Ty Lee?"

It's the same question as before, and Azula asks it in the same way. The edge is gone, not out of kindness, but out of desperation. She was looking for a real answer and not the one that Ty Lee was poised to give.

"Everybody wants something." She continues when Ty Lee takes too long to reply. "You're here because you want something. You just haven't figured out what it is yet."

She turns away without preamble, and disappears into the doors of the hospital, the ever-present trail of soldiers following after her. She leaves Ty Lee in the courtyard with her words and the uncharacteristic flickers of fragility, staring after her although she is long gone.

The street feels colder than she had first found it. The sky is already darkened, the dying fingers of light fading into withering plumes of yellow and red on the distant horizon. She blows a breath out from her lips, wondering if she looked as exhausted as she felt. The strings of lanterns that decorate the city are already lit, glimmering cheerily at her. She looks at them numbly with glassy eyes, and slowly she willed her heavy feet to move. Plunging into the throngs of traffic, she let the waves of bodies carry her home, the dim skies above her bursting with the festival's jubilant cries and the streams of fireworks.


	12. The War Came Home

"How could you do this to us?"

It was the first thing out of her mouth when they shut the doors, and Suki fights to keep her composure, to keep herself from shredding the papers in her hands and flinging them into Zuko's face. "We trusted you!" Her voice is growing louder, the statesmen forgotten, and she fights for her composure with the taste of deception and betrayal still fresh and poignant, choking out the civility she might have kept. "We're supposed to be friends!"

The answer is written so plainly on him. While it had only been four years since his ascension to the throne, it seemed like the Fire Lord had aged twice that amount in such a short time. His lips were pressed into a thin hard line, and although he stood flanked by the soldiers of the Royal Guard, the feeling of being outnumbered was keenly familiar to him.

"You ambushed us."

It's the truth, as cold and sharp as the ice she would have pierced him with. If Katara could have slapped him, she would have, Zuko had no doubt about that. All around him stood the people who had helped win his crown, who had helped restore his birthright, saved his life more times that he could remember.

"It's not like that-" He started.

"Could have fooled me." Sokka cut in, his face flushed with anger. Out of all of them, he demonstrated his anger the easiest, the stress of the past days having eaten away at the normally good-tempered and easygoing nature that had been his stalwart traits.

It was eating away at all of them. Suki had fallen silent, collapsing wordlessly into a nearby chair as Sokka gripped her shoulder protectively and glared with the same ire that mirrored his sister's. Hiding in the background, ignored and invisible, Ty Lee looked ashen.

"Zuko, why didn't you tell us?" It's almost a relief when Aang finally speaks, the young monk having always been his closest friend amongst them, as well as the reliable mediator. But Aang was just as exhausted as the rest, looking more disappointed than angry. "We could have brought it to the generals or the Earth King."

"They would have refused you as soon as you would have said that the idea came from us." It's not what they want to hear, but it's the truth, and the way Aang's gaze falters for a brief moment tells him that the Avatar knew it as well. The Earth Kingdom has a vendetta and a long memory.

"So this is how you bring it up?" Sokka's rage is relentless, tiresome as it was. Zuko could hardly blame him, knowing that if he had been in the same position that he would have fought similarly. But knowing and feeling were two different things, and patience had never been his best trait. "If you're going to stab us at least look us in the face when you do it!"

"Fine!" The rest of his composure evaporates. "We might be friends, but in case you haven't noticed, I still have a country to run. If you guys would just take two seconds to realize that this involves all of us, then we could be doing something good and start protecting people!"

"Protecting people or your throne?" Sokka replied frostily, not even blinking when Zuko's fist slammed into the table and left the lacquer smoldering.

"How dare you-"

"You have  _no_ idea what you're asking!"

They were shouting at each other, all of them livid and at the top of their lungs. Aang was fighting to be heard, unheeded as his friends lunged at each other. Ty Lee speaks for the first time, her voice so small against theirs that they struggle to hear her, a long enough break for her words to come whispering through.

"Guys, we need to stop. Everyone outside can hear-

"Shut up, Ty Lee!" Katara whirls on her viciously, appalled at her stupidity. "He's using you just as much as he's using any of us!"

They were talking in circles, throwing the same accusations at each other. The Water Tribes weren't nearly as politically astute as they thought themselves to be, and the way Ty Lee fell away from Katara without a word enraged him. She takes Katara's derision like she used to take Mai's and Azula's, but at least before it had been from people who knew her best instead of strangers who didn't bother to care.

_I will build a new era._

"I need an answer. And not from  _you_." He says when Sokka's lip curls in disgust. "You can say what you want but this is still the best anyone's ever given you."

"You do  _not_ bribe representatives of this Summit." Aang says slowly, underscoring with calm evenness the weight of Zuko's implications.

They look at him with suspicion, the same as before, and nothing has changed.

"As a friend then."

"For crying out loud, Zuko, why do you even care?" It means more coming from Katara, because he knows that out of all of them, it's her that he owes an answer to the most. In the war, they had clashed so many times at so many points where he had thought his own soul black beyond the point of salvation. In the end they had saved each other, hair's-breadth away from death-shared witnesses to the demise of age old empires-and it had united them. It had been his only vindication.

He turned away from her, knowing that he couldn't give what she wanted.

 _I'm not who I used to be. I've changed, people can change._ How many times had he clung to this hope, how many times had he whispered this mantra to defy his fears?  _I am not my father._

"I'm asking as a friend." He repeats, turning to the center of all their antagonism, hoping she can hear his sincerity, and see how everything fell on her single word. He finds fear laced in her eyes as they flickered up to regard him. He's never known her to be afraid of anything, but she's not looking at him so much as she's remembering someone else.

"I can't believe you." Suki's voice is quiet, horrified at his audacity. She pulls away from him, withdrawing her hands away from his as she fled the room.

They eventually follow her-one by one-Ty Lee first, and Sokka last. The silence Suki leaves behind is enough of an answer, but Sokka lingers just long enough so that it's unmistakable.

"'Answer's no, Zuko." His finality punctuated by the door banging shut, Sokka leaves as the young king's heart caved with the last hopes that vaporized in their wake.

* * *

The hearing hadn't even formally started and they were already fighting. The stewards had veritably thrown the doors open and the whole scene-long audible from beyond the assembly house-came yawning to life with the roars of countless politicians.

"Captain Suki and Lady Ty Lee of the Kyoshi Warriors." The heralds announced to deaf ears. They were the last ones to arrive, only invited for this sole issue when all the other politicians had attended the previous negotiations concerning trade regulation. Ty Lee couldn't be sure what they were debating on now.

The speaking floor was crammed with statesmen from the collective Earth Kingdoms and the Fire Nation's chancellors, all yelling to be heard while their peers looked grimly from the benches. Their heated argument looked to continue, the new presence of Kyoshi Island's delegation entirely ignored.

Aang-ever the most observant-looked up from where he was seated at the position of honor, clearly nursing a headache, but brave enough to smile and polite enough to wave so that all others would acknowledge them. Sitting his left hand, Zuko nodded to them in a quiet welcome, although it seemed that he was looking at Ty Lee in particular when he lifted his fingers in discrete greeting.

Ty Lee noted with a knot in her stomach that Katara and Sokka sat with the ambassadors of the Water Tribe at the top-most rows, next to their father and other leaders. Suki waved to them, but whether out of the need to maintain her professionalism or out of deference to Ty Lee's presence, refrained from addressing them further.

For an absurd moment, it felt like all of the eyes of the forum were on Ty Lee. Turning away from Katara and Sokka's steely gazes, the younger girl kept her eyes to the floor as they passed the Fire Nation's quarter of the forum, trailing the hems of Suki's colorful robes as they weaved through the crowds to reach the forum stairs. She could feel their stares piercing into the back of her head as she tried very hard to be invisible. Wiping sweaty palms on the edges of her own bright green dress, she mimicked Suki and gave shallow bows to the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe dignitaries who recognized and rose to greet them, waiting dutifully at her captain's side as they paused to exchange pleasantries.

None of the Fire Nation statesmen had stood to receive them, but as they sat down amongst the rest of the Earth Kingdom representatives, Ty Lee could feel their eyes on her and the uniform she wore. They didn't shrink or look away when she bravely turned to meet their gazes, all of their expressions immutable and unreadable. They were all young, decades younger than their Water Tribe and Earth Kingdom counterparts, others barely a few years older than herself.

"How is it, Kyung?" Suki asked gravely to the man next to her. Ty Lee knew him as a senior diplomat from one of the smaller Earth Kingdom cities, familiar to the Kyoshi Warriors through Aang's travels and Suki's near-constant accompaniments.

"Not good." He replied, leaning in to speak in hushed tones. "The Fire Nation is using every trick in the book to stall us." He spoke as if Ty Lee wasn't there at all. "They think that as long as they burn through enough time and the decision falls on the Avatar that they can appeal to him for leniency."

Suki shook her head. "Aang likes to look at all sides before making up his mind. Zuko knows this too."

The man nodded and shrugged. "They're cornered, that's obvious. But still they insist on protecting her."

Ty Lee didn't have to ask to know who he meant by "her."

The memory of yesterday weighed on her, and even now she didn't dare to look Suki in the face. This morning had been an awkward affair, both of them skirting around each other but still managing the politeness and civility that kept them from confrontation. She had been thankful that Suki hadn't broached the subject with the rest of the squad, but now that she thought about it she knew that it was more for the benefit of their teammates.

When she had returned home after the festival, she had stood outside the compound door for what had been an eternity before she realized that she wasn't going to go in. She wandered the city for the entire night, roaming the districts of the capital and the places that she had been so familiar with when she was a child. She had visited the bazaars, the shipyards, and the royal academies, rediscovering memories more than places. In between, she had stopped at the palace grounds in hopes of seeking out Zuko, but was turned away when they told her that he was busy with preparations for the summit. She left a message (written too sparsely and with such a hesitant hand that she might not have written anything at all) and continued on.

The prospect of going home, even in the growing hours of the morning, had been terrifying. She couldn't stand the thought (the humiliation) of being found returning, knowing that all that had happened would show so clearly on her face. The thought of being found by Suki, again, was especially unbearable.

She spent the evening in a cheap tavern, paying for the night's worth of a room that she didn't use, waiting for sunrise and the courage to go back. She arrived only when it was time, slipping in easily during the early morning tumult to change her uniform and blot on makeup in the waning candlelight. Staring into the mirror and seeing the dark circles underneath her eyes reminded her of Azula, and she wondered if either of them slept peacefully anymore. She remembered the words spoken to her, and they followed her here as they followed her across her night's vigil over the city.

_Honestly, what were you expecting? That you could walk the middle ground forever?_

Now, she looked over to where the Fire Nation statesmen sat, but they weren't looking at her anymore. They were all turned towards the speaking floor, dark-faced and solemn. She realized that she knew some of their faces, some who had served with her as minor officers in the war, others whom she had gone to school with when they were younger.

_Grow up._

"Has Ba Sing Se not taken enough? Is your thirst not slaked by the blood of our dead sons and daughters that you must continue to ask for more?" The Fire Nation's own state minister's voice rang heavy through the entire hall, the flat of his hand slamming into the podium repeatedly as he spoke emphatically. He was furious, etiquette thrown to the wind as spittle flew from his mouth. His face was red, and his breathing labored, and it was clear that they had been arguing for some time before the hearing even started.

The response was written on the face of the leader of Ba Sing Se's delegation, stoic and unmoved.

"Your generals and statesmen were judged fairly in a court of law for their crimes, and were sentenced appropriately. Unfortunately we cannot say the same about your wartime leaders."

"It seems hardly befitting the name of equity for the entirety of generations to be shouldered solely by a single person!"

"There stands the matter of personal crimes as well." There was an underlying edge to his cold tone, and as he spoke he waved to a nearby page, drawing forth a thick stack of paper that he laid across his podium for illustrative effect. "We have sworn testimonials taken from key witnesses in the Ba Sing Se Tribunals, which the accused was so conveniently kept from, detailing her numerous offenses-"

As he spoke, a murmur ran through the Fire Nation's quarter. For a moment the state minister seemed to be at a loss, looking to his subordinates, and then a flashing glimpse to Zuko that Ty Lee barely caught.

"Those accounts were never presented to us and we've never had the chance to examine them; those testimonials are inadmissible!" He shot back without missing a beat.

"Examine them now. Some of her victims are right there in the stands." The Earth Kingdom representative made a grand gesture to the forum, and Ty Lee could feel Suki stiffening beside her although neither of the diplomats had looked away from each other. "'Conspiracy to commit crimes against humanity;' only the first of many charges we were unable to bring forth." He read, picking up the monolithic tome and dropping it again. "Her name is among those that decorate the scorched earth policy that your military championed in your empire's final moments-the only name that has gone unpunished-a brazen affront to the international court's authority and jurisdiction."

Murmurs ran throughout the hall. Someone in the Fire Nation benches had risen to his feet, but was pulled back down by his grim companions. The Water Tribes were withholding, wanting to lend their own voice and yet too perturbed by the scene around them. Ba Sing Se's politicians hadn't yet grown beyond their reputation for corruption and fanaticism.

"Her Highness was not of age to stand trial!" Again the state minister looked to where the Fire Lord sat, this time not bothering to hide his confusion. Ty Lee saw that Kyung was right, and that the Fire Nation's defense was grabbing at straws, and the young politician was lost.

Whatever unspoken thing he was asking for, it wasn't given. Zuko shook his head, and the Earth Kingdom delegate continued, unabated. "That might have been the case then, but she has since turned the age of accountability."

"She was fourteen at the time of these allegations-"

"This claim of insanity is just another attempt to keep her from the international courts. Our own physicians have been refused and yet you claim that these medical reports are impartial."

"She was a child-"

"Do you really expect this assembly to believe that her  _survival_ was a lucky miracle? The timing of these events is strangely convenient, don't you think so?"

_It's not like that. Tell them, Zuko. Tell them it's not like that._

He had to say something, he had to. For so long, he had promised that when the time came, he would defend Azula. And even if they had never liked each other, never got along (she tried not to think about Agni Kais or what is must take to kill someone) they were still siblings and that had to count for something.

Ty Lee was so intent on Zuko that she didn't see how her disbelief was mirrored across the faces of the junior diplomats. Neither did she see Suki-ever vigilant-look suspiciously from Zuko to the rows of Fire Nation delegates.

As wounded as the Fire Nation's delegation was, the Earth Kingdom diplomats were growing mutinous. Bored, and grown bold with the scent of blood, they were pushing for what they hoped to be a definite sentence.

"There is real weight to these charges, and we implore the assembly to look seriously upon the evidence gathered here to know beyond all doubt of Princess Azula's involvement and responsibility."

"Those papers are inadmissible-" The argument is old, and the poor man is helpless.

"The concern here is rule of law!"

"Enough!" The wind rushing over them silences the room more effectively than any long-winded politician screaming for rights to the floor. Aang stands with his staff clenched tightly in his fist, his eyes probing the delegations as he weights their words in his mind. "I've heard enough."

"Avatar Aang-" The state minister started again.

"This isn't a trial, minister, we're just weighing our options." He placated the Fire Nation with soft words and a kind voice. "But after I visited Wuhan, it's hard to believe that Azula could be faking all that." His honesty disarms them, and in that moment he found Ty Lee in the stands, giving what she thought was supposed to be a comforting smile. "And I've always been a believer of second chances."

"Avatar Aang, if I may," The Ba Sing Se envoy's face was dark. "You made a promise to the people to right the wrongs done to them in the war. With all due respect, she must be punished for her crimes."

"Yes." Aang replied quietly. "There's that too."

"She is just one in a long line of countless tyrants, bred from generations of hate and if we have learned anything of evil it's that it is a disease that must be exterminated and put down!"

"I didn't support the tribunals and I will not support this." Aang said. "Enough people have died."

And then it was Ba Sing Se's turn to look livid.

The mood in the hall turned dour, and each man of the Earth Kingdom looked to the other. Unwilling to bend, the delegation clamored fruitlessly amongst each other.

"You are the last airbender! You embody all that remains of a long-dead culture and slaughtered people, and you would have them go unavenged? Her forefathers killed you as easily as pigs-"

" _You_ don't need to tell me about the destruction of the Air Temples." His eyes flashed with piqued anger. "Trust me, you don't want to go there."

The diplomat knew he had stepped over the line, and had the decency to look humbled.

At last, Zuko rose and slid in alongside Aang, putting a hand on his friend's shoulder and speaking for the first time since the meeting had started. "We're at a deadlock."

It was then that she understood. While the power of his forefathers had come from a sovereign mandate, his own throne was one that had been won for him by other kingdoms. His alienation of Fire Nation nationalists and the military had made him many enemies, and speaking wrongly now would only earn him the ire of foreign nations. Her hope had all but withered, sinking with the larger knowledge that there were more important things at stake for Zuko.

"Maybe there is another solution that we can work out, one that is satisfactory for Ba Sing Se." It was a clumsy olive branch. Diplomacy had never been a strong point of the Fire Nation and it was even clumsier for Zuko, who sounded like all his words were a rehearsed line.

"Although…passionately stated, the concerns of Ba Sing Se are well-founded." Without a place on the floor, Chief Arnook spoke from the top tiers of the stands, one of the few leaders to have some to the summit in person instead of sending ambassadors. "The Water Tribes' only desire is that Princess Azula never again be able to cause the same kind of harm that she did in the war."

"That can be accomplished in very broad terms." The lead delegate from Omashu said. "Perhaps something more specific."

"We understand that Ozai received a special disposition." Ozai, who would never again breathe the night air, taste the morning light, or feel the warmth of his own body, imprisoned until the end of his days. The idea wasn't any better than Ba Sing Se's, but they treat it like it's a gift, a bargaining tool with which they show their mercy and humanity. "But all things considered, it seems ill-fitting for the daughter to have a sentence that outweighs the father."

Ty Lee tried to catch his eye, but he turned from her, and all the suspicions that she carried with her bloomed when by chance she found herself looking to Suki, and all the girl's eyes seemed to say was  _I told you_.

She was frozen, but what had he brought her here to do if not to speak for Azula when no one else would?

"A life in prison. It seems cruel for someone so young but as Ambassador Xiang has said," The Omashu representative gestured to the Earth Kingdom podium. "This is an extraordinary case."

"Princess Azula's own capacity for cruelty notwithstanding." The man said tersely.

"The necessary arrangements are easy as long as we have the permission of the assembly." Zuko spoke over him. "Obviously, she will be removed of all hereditary and awarded titles, and her claims will have divided amongst the nations in attendance. That should be enough for King Kuei and Ba Sing Se." He finished pointedly.

She had waited too long. She had waited for Zuko to help them, believing in his ability to grow, to become the man they all knew he could be. She had known him as a friend, and forgotten that he was as much their king as he was Azula's brother. And now it was too late. Whether beneath the headsman's blade or starving for life in the bowels of the city, Azula would die.

When she rose to speak, she saw the panic in his eyes that dissolved into a bold and impetuous plea.

"Pardon me."

The ambassador cut in without knowing what he had averted. Ty Lee's voice froze in her throat, and a second is all that it took for her resolve to shrivel away.

"But the Fire Nation surely jests. If anyone cared half as much as they claim about the  _satisfaction_  of Ba Sing Se, no one would need to question the validity of this summit at all. You scorned us for our tribunals. The world has forgotten how much our city has sacrificed; we lie war torn and broken and meanwhile Avatar Aang spits on the graves of every Earth Kingdom soldier from here to the continent itself!"

"How dare you! Aang knows better than anyone what sacrifice means! He died, and if it weren't for him then the entire world would have been lost!" Katara is on her feet and yelling, angrily shrugging off her father's attempt to placate her. "No! You're out of line, ambassador!"

"It is the Avatar who is out of line! For a hundred years Ba Sing Se has stood as a bastion, and in the waning hours of the war we had been the last stronghold capable of opposing the Fire Nation. For generations, millions of sons and daughters of the Earth Kingdom have perished on our walls and beyond. Can your people say the same, Katara of the Water Tribe? Can  _any_  of you?" The veracity of his words made the assembly balk and he seizes their hesitation. "We have suffered. It has lasted lifetimes. And now the Avatar would have us forget all of it, and ask us to  _forgive_."

"Ambassador-" Aang started.

"You may have won the war, but you know nothing about those who died in it. You ask if the sins of generations should be shouldered by a single person. In the memory of every slaughtered man, every forced and dishonored woman, every starved child, they should and they must!"

His tirade is met with silence and for once no one looked like they had anything to say. Aang fell back into his seat without a reply. From the corner of Ty Lee's eye, Katara had disappeared again into an indiscernible sea of blue.

"What do you want from this summit, ambassador?" Zuko asked soberly, standing alone on the dais.

"Justice."

The hall was solemn, still heavy with his words, and for a few moments everyone waited for the Fire Lord's response. When he spoke again, he had lost all the unsure qualities that had dotted his previous speech. He spoke with sureness and gravity, echoing an eerily practiced oratory.

"What we have done as a people and as a nation will never be forgotten. It will follow our names through history and memory. We can't change the war. We don't ask for your forgiveness, only your patience so that we can show you that we believe in the same vision of a better world as much as all of you. With that said, I can offer Ba Sing Se a small consolation."

"My sister is still young." He continued. "She can't answer for her crimes locked away forever in a cell, and neither will she be able to see the consequences of her actions. Many of you will remember that I too will not answer for my own deeds in the war. It is my hope that with this, I can remedy each of our respective wrongdoings."

"If the Earth Kingdom will find it fitting, I offer them full custody of my sister, a lifetime of her servitude to help rebuild the cities she destroyed or for as long as they deem suitable. Along with her, the Fire Nation extends favorable trade agreements and pledges all resources necessary to ensure that Azula contributes to the reconstruction and continued prestige of the Earth Kingdom."

The room was flooded with a thousand voices. The dreams of Ba Sing Se couldn't have materialized in a better way. The entire time that Zuko was speaking, each statesman had hung on his every word until finally the excitement in the hall was veritably palpable. They seemed bordering on jubilant to have fought fruitlessly for so long and to now be given a victory by the Fire Lord's own hands. They saw the offer for what it was and had no reason to be suspicious.

"Excellent!" The ambassador exclaimed. "Ba Sing Se accepts these conditions. We can assure the Fire Nation that Princess Azula will be given every measure of security and no bodily harm shall come to her. We can send ministers to negotiate the particulars immediately-"

"I'm sorry, there's been a misunderstanding." Zuko cut him off viciously with a brusque motion of his hand. "The offer wasn't made to Ba Sing Se."

The ghost of a smile on his lips was a chilling and cruel dagger, growing larger with the waning hope in the ambassador's eyes. They had been caught unaware, tricked again by the deceitfulness of the Fire Nation.

"But you just said-"

"I said the  _Earth Kingdom_. The Earth King may speak on behalf of your entire nation when it comes to matters of defense and economic policy, but I was told that each constituent nation was sovereign. Actually, given Ba Sing Se's shaky relationship with its citizens, and the fact that the Dai Li couldn't be accounted for after the war, I have no reason to believe your promises of her safety."

"The Dai Li have been dissolved! We have told the summit countless times of our commitment to rectifying the abuses of power that occurred under Long Feng's rule! All enforcement of cultural authority have been effectively disbanded!"

"It seems both our nations have reputations that we can't overcome." Zuko replied quietly.

The ambassador seethed.

"As I was saying, I want Azula to see the consequences of her actions, to see the people she has hurt, to learn and grow like I did. I was lucky to have someone to guide me, but she's never been like me…" In Ty Lee's mind, his voice trailed off, echoing a dream, a confession he once shared in the privacy of hospital rooms and morgues. It was almost embarrassing to watch him say it to strangers and enemies. It was an idealism. People didn't change, even Ty Lee knew that. But the more he talked, the more she believed in it, until finally she realized that she had never stopped believing in the first place.

She knew what he was going to say even before he finally found her eyes through the crowd and finished the words. All of a sudden she was ashamed, and not for him, but for the green uniform she wore, for the mask that she put on everyday along with the paint and gloss, for changing her allegiances as easily as she changed identities, for not believing in him when he told her to, for thinking the worst when all he had tried to do was give them hope.

Her breath caught in her throat when the speech came to an end, and the entire summit came to life with a hundred roars. Beneath her fingers, her heart raced loudly, reminding her of one cold morning in Wuhan when she had clasped Azula so closely to her, the heat of their bodies mingling so that she could hear the girl's heart screaming  _alive alive alive._

"…the most suitable nation. The Fire Nation extends this offer of Princess Azula's custodial rights and all accompanying benefits to Kyoshi Island."

* * *

"Wait! Suki, wait!" She's racing out of Zuko's room as fast as she can without drawing undue attention to herself. Politicians were still loitering about, talking bitterly amongst themselves and every now and then one would look angrily at her, but for what felt like the first time ever, she didn't care.

She only had a little while before the summit started up again and Suki always had a gift of making herself scarce when she didn't want to be found. She hurried so that she wouldn't lost sight of the older girl.

The summit had devolved into a screaming match and after Aang had called a recess, their own private meeting had gone horribly. Everyone seemed to be blaming Zuko, and her as well. Sokka was furious, but she had expected that. What surprised her had been Katara's accusations. They thought that they had been in on it together so that she could pressure Suki into doing what Zuko wanted. But it hadn't been like that and if she could just explain…

"Suki, please!" Her hand caught the edge of Suki's shoulder. "Can't we talk about this?"

As soon as she had touched her, her hand was roughly thrown off and Suki spun around so fast that for a second she thought the other girl was going to strike her.

"Talk about what?" Suki snapped. "Talk about how Zuko just ambushed me in front of the entire Four Nations Summit? How he embarrassed us in front of the rest of the Earth Kingdom? How he's cornering me into making a decision that  _he_ wants? How long did you know about this, Ty Lee?"

"I-It's not like that, I swear! He never said anything to me!" She had never seen Suki so angry before. It scared her and she instinctively quailed under her captain's outrage. "I would have told you, you know that."

"Do I?" Suki shot back spitefully.

Ty Lee withered, and Suki instantly regretted her words. It was a cheap shot spoken in the heat of the moment, and she didn't mean it. Pinching the bridge of her nose and stifling curses underneath her breath, Suki grabs the younger girl's sleeve and steers them into an alcove hidden by flanking tapestries.

Ty Lee looks like she's about to cry. "I really didn't-"

"I know." It's as close to as apology as she's going to get right now. She can't let go of her anger that easily, but the picture of Ty Lee's face as Zuko finished his speech came suddenly flashing to her mind. "You looked just as stunned as the rest of us."

They looked at each other. They were running out of time. They could hear the stewards announcing that the session was about to start again, and the movement of feet rushing past them in the hallway. No doubt many of them were statesmen from Ba Sing Se and other Earth Kingdom cities who had been looking to speak with Suki before she announced her decision to the forum.

"I'm not even a politician." She said in hushed tones as she listened to them search for her in vain. "Kyoshi Island is led by a council of elders. It doesn't matter what message I relay back, I'm a  _soldier_  and they know that. Why do you think they were so mad to begin with?"

"But what you say has weight in Kyoshi Island. Especially if you let them know that Zuko is sending money and timber and other things to help rebuild the villages he ruined. They can buy whatever they want from the Fire Nation, steam power, military stuff… if you take Azula, it could really help the island."

"You're serious." Suki said darkly. "You actually think I'm considering this."

Ty Lee wrung her hands. There had been a million things she had wanted to say, but when she tried to recall them they all flooded her at once. Helpless, she floundered pitifully under Suki's gaze.

"She doesn't have anywhere else to go."

"What do you think will happen if I say yes? What do you think Ba Sing Se will do to Kyoshi Island if they see us allying with Zuko? The rest of the Earth Kingdom already hates us for not helping them until the last minute of a war, how do you think they'll see us now?"

Ty Lee hadn't thought about that. In truth, since Zuko's announcement, she hadn't thought of anyone except herself and Azula.

"Ty Lee, she tortured me." This time it was Suki who was pleading, beseeching her to see reason, to feel compassion. "People don't change, you know better than that." The hardness of her eyes softened the more she looked at the younger girl and knew that the other girl was incapable of possessing an ounce of malicious of harmful intent towards any of her comrades, yet it didn't make what she was doing any less hurtful. "Aren't I your friend too?"

The stewards were making the final call to assembly. There was no one in the hallways anymore and it was clear that if they didn't hurry up that they would be missed. There was a peculiar urge to apologize, to tell Ty Lee that the fault laid with Zuko for all his assumptions and misplaced burdens of responsibility, and that even if she could have overcome all her wounds and weaknesses, there was nothing that she could have done. But Ty Lee wouldn't meet her eyes anymore, and there was nothing left to be said.

* * *

"Has Kyoshi Island come to a decision?" Aang stands at the center of the floor, finding her easily even now that all the statesmen and ambassadors had been banished into the stands. For once, the entire hall is bereft of movement, all eyes trained between the Avatar and the young Kyoshi Warrior.

"We have." She stood, speaking loudly and formally so that all her Earth Kingdom compatriots could hear how she doesn't hesitate or falter when she says the sentence that damns Azula into a life of slavery.

When she had first entered the assembly, they had welcomed her warmly as the Avatar's friend, but their looks had so swiftly transformed into suspicion and a guarded wariness. Though they refrained from displaying outright hostility, in some ways she would have preferred it.

In their minds, Kyoshi Island had already refused Zuko no sooner than when the words had left his mouth. In their eyes, she could see their calculations as they moved to see which city would be eligible to take Kyoshi Island's place. Azula had entrapped and imprisoned two kings during her time, and Suki knew instinctively that Omashu would be pressured to take the offer.

It struck her now, in the strangest time, that Ty Lee had never answered her question. Ty Lee, who still wouldn't look at her, but sat obediently at her side.

She had questioned their friendship before, but never so profoundly. They weren't friends at all, she realized. They were strangers who smiled at each other.

She remembered Sokka's fury during the Midsummer Festival, her own horror that the very object of her nightmares could materialize so easy, and the cruel laugh on the princess' lips as she watched them. It had pleased her to see them fighting, it had  _entertained_  her. Zuko was wrong. Azula would never have the capacity to empathize with the people that she hurt, never have the ability to show the smallest sliver of remorse for the things she did.

And yet she had defended Ty Lee more easily, with more sincerity and with more conviction than Suki ever could have pretended to.

Azula tormented Ty Lee like she did anyone else, but still had savagely put Sokka down with such cold precision as if it had meant more that time. As if Ty Lee had been special.

It was like a puzzle that leapt into place, a riddle the clicked at the worst possible moment, connecting all the dots in a furious scramble of convoluted pieces. Ty Lee's relentless visits, finding them at the festival, and the unshakable memory of Azula standing at Ty Lee's back and throwing biting insults like it was the easiest thing in the world. All of a sudden, everything made such painful sense.

She didn't mean to. It was like she had been ripped from her body and she was watching someone else take over, like she was watching someone else speak and make her into a bigger person than she felt, sealing the wounds and wiping away the scars that slept so deceitfully underneath her clothes. Like Boiling Rock had never happened at all. Like she could actually forgive.

All the reasons came to mind, each and every one that she had given Ty Lee just then. Her logic screamed at her, rushing to drown out her disgrace and mortification. For the first time in her life, she failed to be level-headed. All sense flees her and in their wake was the cold realization that she couldn't do it.

"We accept."  _Oh spirits below_. She felt at once dizzy and faint, hearing her own words uniting with the deafening rage that struck through the hall. In the corner of her eye she thought she saw Zuko rising to his feet, and Aang rushing to push the Ba Sing Se's ambassador back to his bench, but all she could focus on was the shocked disbelief in Ty Lee's face, too scared to even dream.

"Kyoshi Island accepts."


	13. Our Last Days as Children

Someone had drugged her food.

She knew at the first wave of nausea when the room tilted and she had to grab the wall to keep herself from pitching to the floor. She had played off the bitter aftertaste in her morning porridge as a mark of the inferiority of the hospital's kitchen staff, but when her senses had started to deaden and her knees gave out from under her, there was no denying it.

She woke hours later in the afternoon, chained to a bed with a splitting headache.

They had put her in a different room. She knew it even before she opened her eyes. Outside of hospital walls, everything even smelled different. For the first time in a long time, the windows didn't have bars. The air didn't smell like mold or disinfectant, and there was the gentlest hint of a breeze on her face.

Back in Wuhan, she used to lose time. Whole sections of it would disappear, glinting in and out of the purple and green sheets of smoke from the wall torches, their ghostly fingers whispering into her memories and thoughts until she wasn't able to tell one from the other. It wasn't until they brought her off the island that she realized she had never lost the habit. For a moment, she thought she was back in her old room. Not the one in Wuhan with the cold stone and metal, but the one in the Imperial Palace with the soft linens and wide open windows to let in the warmth of the sun, the place she grew up in.

"You almost slept the whole day away." Her father said to her.

Ozai was sitting underneath the window, looking up from the book in his lap. For a split second, the light blinded her, but his powerful frame was unmistakable and so were the stern lines around his mouth when he regarded her with a frown. She remembered her conversations with him in the dead of night, passing time between the clockwork of her guards and meals, watching the shadows melt and shift into people she never thought were that important to her. But things were always different with her father. Out of all the monsters her mind conjured up to haunt her, he was the one she could long tolerate enough to see the endless solitude eating away at her dignity. To see the inklings of loneliness.

It instinctively subdued her, but the moment is gone as soon as she sees the softness in his eyes and how saddened they become when he sees the sharp angles of her body jutting through the threadbare cotton shift.

She wanted to laugh but it ended up being an unintelligible groan of neither relief nor disdain. "Come to finish the job, Zuko?" She muttered, turning her face away with the back of her hand pressed against her shut eyes.

She didn't care what she looked like to him. If he was discomforted then all the better when he finally left. If he thought that his presence meant anything to her, he was as mistaken as he was eternally stupid.

"You know that's not what I came here to do." Her brother replied, closing the book and setting it aside. He had always been overly serious, but the years had taken away all the boyish bravado and forceful enthusiasm. He wasn't yet older than twenty now, but there was the distinct impression of a man with peppering hair and sunken eyes, aged and old. Even from the corner of her eye, the differences disappointed her. His beard was shorter and thinner, his shoulders were narrower, and he didn't stand nearly as tall as their father did.

 _Stupid_ , she said to herself.  _Not even remotely the same_.

"Just afraid then?" She said under the shadow of the Imperial Guard. The last time they had seen each other, she had been fourteen, and no measure of clever ruses could have erased the memory of the day he first imprisoned her, when she had made her last attempt to kill him. He was assuming now that she wouldn't replicate the same intentions, that she wasn't calculating the distance of the chain and the heartbeat it would take to rush him and snap his neck before his guards could even move.

"Never." He replied, stone-faced.

"Pity. The Fire Lord has a lot of enemies and not all of them chained up so nice like I am." She sighed, her jibes coming automatically, without thought, and lacking the pleasure she used to find in them. They were only a reflex, a figment fading fast against the larger desire for him to leave. She knew what he had come to say. It seemed like she had spent forever considering all the possibilities that would result from this conversation, but now when it had finally arrived, she surprised herself in not caring very much how it ended.

"They're gone. I've spent years giving back what we've wrongfully taken. The world has no reason to fear us." He said with a low voice.

He had forgotten who she was. Time had turned him soft, the safeties of his laurels had dulled him. He pitied her, even as he spouted unlearned and callow idealisms, and Azula-who knew the history of kings better than anyone-knew that such naiveté would one day be his demise.

"Oh Zuzu," She finally allowed herself to laugh, steadying herself on the bedpost as she lifted herself up. She continued to laugh, even as the room spun around her and a deep sickness welled up inside her that begged for her to lie down. "Don't tell me no one's figured out yet what a terrible Fire Lord you really are." She had struck a sore spot, and how swiftly his demeanor changed from sympathy to the accustomed indignation told her in abundance about how much he had truly grown.

"I'm a better Fire Lord than Dad ever was."

He was becoming droll, and all she wanted to do was to sleep off the rest of the sedative before it truly began to make her sick. "Aren't you here to tell me something?" A cursory inspection of her nails revealed some dirt under the edges, and leaning a heavy head against the bed frame, she methodically started to clean them. "Would you like my head, or just the pleasure of seeing me rot away in prison?"

She made a vague gesture around them, and in doing so realized that the movement was surprisingly effortless, unencumbered and easy for the first time in ages. The cuffs on her wrists weren't the same as before. They were polished and light, whereas before they had been coarse and thick. They pinched all the same, but it felt different somehow. An unbidden hand went to her throat to see that indeed, even her collar had been changed, and the metal was smooth and gentle as the ones shackling her wrists and ankles. The feeling she had awoken with hadn't been a mere impression. Her lungs were filling with each breath, like there was more air in the room, like there was more blood in her body, and with each passing moment she was becoming more and more alive.

"Neither." She detected a hint of pride as he spoke it, as if he had just delivered her a kindness.

"Oh?" She raised an eyebrow, unfazed and unenticed by the promise in his words. The way he stiffened reaffirmed her beliefs, that there was always a price to people, a reason just skin-deep below the surface for any sort of generosity or altruism.

"You're my sister, Azula." He said , watching her face carefully, his words falling into a whisper with each growing admission. "I know that doesn't mean anything to you, but it does to me." He was stating facts instead of truths, glossing over the peculiars like it wasn't part of her own story he was telling. "No matter what you think, I don't want you dead."

An odious lie, or a foolish notion, she couldn't decide which. Her hands clenched into fists, tight and hot under the constraints, the metal nodes digging into bone and muscle as her joints gnashed. Even with the new freedom of the loose bindings, every fiber in her arms lit up with screaming pain. "Oh, please." She replied, disgusted. "You're really expecting us to talk about our feelings now?"

She stared back at him, daring him to lose control of his notoriously precarious temper, to show them all what a silly child he still was. She could see all his emotions played out on him, his frustration at her deterrences and how easily she threw off his appeals like they were nothing. He was probing blindly for any emotional opening, any weakness that her years in the hospital might have revealed. He was proving to be a bigger idiot than she remembered him to be.

"No." He sighed. "I guess not." He drew himself back, remaining just out of reach. He made a curt gesture to one of the Imperial Guards, who in turn approached Azula and presented her with a cloth bundle.

"What's this?" She narrowed her eyes at the package placed in her lap. It felt dense and heavy and when she pulled open the knot she could see folds of thick blue cloth peaking out. They were clothes in a design that was unknown to her, but as she held them out before her, a sinking feeling settled into her stomach that made her think that death or even a lifetime of prison would have been preferable.

"In the morning, they'll take you to an airship. It's going to take you to Kyoshi Island. You'll be working with the villagers, helping them rebuild their homes and villages we destroyed during the war. You'll be there for as long as they need you, for a couple of years or even more."

She dropped the garment on the floor, looking at it like it was some rotting carcass. " _You_  destroyed in the war! I didn't lay a finger on that forsaken island!" She had thought of every conceivable way Zuko could have rid himself of her-however gruesome or daunting-and in her mind she had been very creative and thorough. Out of all the fates she could have imagined, somehow this was the one that eluded her, and the one that she couldn't stand the most. The idea of Kyoshi Island, to spend the rest of her life as the slave of common Earth Kingdom peasants, degraded her beyond measure. Even worse, to be used as a levying tool, a piece for the Earth Kingdom to hold over the Fire Nation's head in case they should ever step out of bounds...

Apparently, her brother had been expecting something more from her. She knew that he had thought himself to be very clever in making this arrangement, and her visible lack of gratitude (or even relief) was unexpected and offended his pride. He was blind, and an utter fool.

"You did horrible things to its soldiers. We could have sent you to Ba Sing Se to take care of their people, and have you mysteriously disappear in a month, if you want." He muttered demonstratively.

"And it still would have been a better idea than whatever this is!" She snapped viciously, seeing him bristle with indignation, daring for him to make it happen. Such a deal would have been initiated by someone in the Fire Nation with the ability to see beyond the scope of law and justice, and required coordination for months ahead of the Four Nations Summit. She was getting more questions than answers, but she could always bait Zuko without the slightest bit of effort. "Please don't tell me you came up with this all on your own."

She had suspected others involved, people who were running his throne for him while he slowly and ineptly learned the trade of politics and power bargaining. His agitation was all too easy to decipher as he simultaneously side-stepped and answering her question. "My council and I spent a lot of time on this. I made this decision because I knew it was the best one for us."

"And Ty Lee?" She had known since the beginning what they had been doing together. She had known since Ty Lee came back from that flea-bitten island, coming to see her everyday as if they were friends, pretending like everything was behind them. All the stupid girl would talk about were the places outside, far away from any decrepit and festering dungeon, places and people that had left her and she would never see again. Ty Lee's presence had been more maddening than any illness, more enticing than any far off dream. "What did you pay that little snake to get her to cooperate?"

There was a long and bewildered pause.

"Azula, she wasn't there to spy on you."

"Please. You must think I'm  _really_  stupid."

He was an amateur when he played this game. She saw the beginnings of his anger collapse in his eyes. Even his pity was contrived, hopelessly shallow and transparent. A change came over him, pulling away the airs with which he decorated himself with when she first woke. She saw him for who he was, an insecure and scared little boy.

"You should be nicer to Ty Lee." He said.

She would have laughed in his face again if he hadn't seemed to be taking himself so seriously. "Yes, all of her actions have been so deserving of my kindness." She was growing weary of him, and as they watched each other, she hoped that he still had the sense in him to remember caution, if he could not remember humility.

"I thought all these years would have taught you something." He said, stooping to pick up the dropped clothing. The dark blue cloth ran over his fingers, washing over the crimson of his sleeves. He tried to imagine Azula in a worker's apron, lifting lumber and cutting stone. "I thought it would have at least changed you."

"And what exactly was being locked in a cell supposed to teach me?" Sometimes she wondered if he bothered to think before he opened his mouth. "Did you think all I needed was to be by myself in order to become as nice and good as you?"

"Come on, Azula, I'm trying to help you!"

"Why now?" Even theoretically, the pieces fit too well to assuage her fears. In a fell swoop, he had removed her from succession, banished her, and strengthened his diplomatic leanings, and yet he expected her to see that he had done this out of the good in his heart. "It's been years-why now?"

"It's not that simple." He said darkly, pressing a hand to his brow. He had seated himself again so that they were level with each other. Facing her with what he had come to say was daunting when he remembered the physicians' reports. He had waited for as long as he could until he was sure she would fine. He had waited, anxiously and half in fear, until at last he had run out of time. He had imprisoned and crippled her, yet in many ways he had envied her solitude, and now he had come to remove her walls one by one.

"Mom's dead." Saying it aloud was like making it real again. The words came out in a rush, a locked away truth he had hidden from Azula for so long, and with them the memories of his search after the war and Ursa's shrunken body turning to ash and bone on a bright funeral pyre. In his own way, he had tried to keep her alive. He preferred to remember her in the best ways, the ways only a son could. "After the war, they kept moving her around, and it took so long to find her. By the time I figured it out, it was too late. She'd been sick and…"

Azula's eyes grew wide. As he spoke, she had sunk back onto the bed, the rest of the cloth bundle falling limply from her hands.

"Ty Lee wanted me to tell you earlier." He didn't know why he felt the urge to explain himself. "But the doctors didn't think you could take more stress." Azula had buried her face in her hands, and he stopped to swallow the hardness in his throat, all of a sudden at a loss. "Mom told me to look for you after she was gone. When I came back I heard Ty Lee was still visiting you so I asked her if she would help me."

She was crying. The knowledge struck him mute, not knowing how to comfort her or even if Azula would accept it. If his sister ever had a weakness, it had always been their mother. The hospital reports shamed him, revealing secrets that he should have known, revealing so bare the love she yearned for but was only his.

"Don't tell me." She said breathlessly, pulling her fingers away so that he saw that her shaking was for an entirely different reason. Tears dotted the corners of her eyes, and she had to pause to get the words out from between her laughter. "You actually think I care."

He pulled his hand back, stung, the horror on his face telegraphing itself so that the guards prickled around him like hackles. Her laughter rang around them, harsh and mocking.

She had gone insane again, he was sure of it.

"What are you talking about? Did you even hear what I just-"

"Oh I heard you, Zuzu. I just-" She kept laughing, and the more she laughed the more angry he became. "You should see the look on your face."

She was mocking him, as she had always done.

Before he had come here, he said that he wouldn't get angry. Azula was sick and needed help and he knew that, and he should have anticipated this, he should have remembered how cold and spiteful she could be. But now seeing her face to face was more than he could bear. He had been staring at her for so long to try to shake himself from the feeling of being haunted, but the more he watched her the more sure he became. Everything about Azula was just another painful reminder of Ursa; the curve of Azula's mouth, her jaw, her high cheekbones, her long thin nose, everything. And yet in her eyes, his father leered back at him, renewed and reborn.

She rose to her feet, steadier and more sure-footed. Tucking strands of overgrown bangs behind an ear, she gazed musingly away from him, like now that the humor was gone she had grown bored. Her face remained as unreadable to him as ever, but it was clear his news didn't bother her in the least.

"What's wrong with you?" He got up so fast the chair clattered to the floor. "Did you hate her that much? She was your mother!"

"She abandoned me." Azula replied testily. "She left to protect you." She turned her shoulder to him, the lengths of chain clinking to the floor as she moved to the window. While she was calm, Zuko could sense something seething, dangerous should he tread hastily. "A sad disappointment like you."

"Is that was this is? You're  _jealous_?"

She looked at him contemptuously, her lips curled in disgust. "Don't be stupid. A woman who could leave as easily as that was never my mother to begin with. Even I know that." She said it so easily, but Zuko knew that she believed every word of it.

It was like they were kids all over again, fighting over petty details, who was better, who was the superior one. But Ursa was gone, and Ozai was just a shadow. He had locked Azula away in more than just a hospital cell, he had sealed her away in time, suspended and unmoved.

"You don't know anything! You weren't there!" She should have been. He knew that now. He should have taken her with him so that she could have seen for herself the decrepit, barren colony Ursa had wasted away in, and seen the rotting, crumbling hut where she had died. "Dad wouldn't even tell me where she was! I had to do everything by myself-it took years! By the time I got there, all she was… all she wanted…"

All Ursa was and all the things he remembered her to be were gone. He had found her dying, a skeleton clinging onto the last remnants of life that years of grief or sickness hadn't robbed her of. She had watched the world and waited-as he had-for so long, for their reunion with her heart full of regret and sorrow, begging him with her last breath. When she asked for Azula, the words wouldn't come to him, the darkness of Wuhan tormenting him with guilt, keeping him from telling her the truth, unable to give her a last heartbreak. He had cradled his mother in his arms long after she had grown cold and the light had gone out in her eyes. He had cried until he felt like he couldn't cry anymore, her last words still whispering through him.

_Promise me, Zuko…promise me…_

"All she would talk about was you!" He screamed. "Even when she was dying, all she cared about was  _you_!"

Azula whirled on him, allowing for the first time to let the anger show on her. "You're an idiot." She seethed. "You think that just because she was sorry for a few seconds out of her entire life that it's supposed to make me care?"

She had been reduced to a dead woman's last regret, an afterthought, a no one. Enough to have been worth a deathbed's remorse, but not enough to have meant putting sentiments to action in life. She hated Zuko because he thought that she should have felt differently, that she should have been elated that she had thought of her at all. But more than ever, she hated her mother.

"She made me promise to protect you." He said. "If it weren't for that promise, I swear I'd-"

"You would what, Zuko?" She sneered back, taunting him, making him see that the things he had thought were so beneath him had never truly left him at all. "What could you possibly do to me that would make me care about her or any one of your half-brained lackeys you send me?"

They stood frozen, neither sibling unwilling to be the first one who looked away, to turn back, to give anything that could have been thought of as defeat. Zuko's hands were balled into fists at his sides, faintly trembling with ire. Azula wondered idly if their mother had even commented on his hideous scar, or even bothered to congratulate him on his hard-won throne before assailing him with pleads of mercy for the daughter she had forgotten.

"It just kills you, doesn't it?" He had no guile in him, she could read him like an open book, his emotions as clear as day. She could always see the things about him that he himself refused to, like his guilt and the darkest wishes in his heart. "You wanted her to die thinking about you." Knowing his vices didn't mount to understanding them. His relationship with Ursa disgusted her. Granted, he and their mother had been two of a kind, clamoring after airs of greatness and yet unable to see true strength when it was presented to him. If he thought she envied him then the more fool he was.

Zuko didn't reply. Retrieving the discarded book, he pulled out something hidden from between the pages.

"I was going to give this back to you later, but maybe now is better." He said, holding it out to her, but keeping it just outside of her reach. There was something about the way he was looking at her that she didn't like. " I don't believe you when you say you don't care about people." He said. "I think you care a lot."

To anyone else, it wouldn't have looked much like anything. Even held to the light, the fragile, decaying mess was indiscernible. Time had worn it away, and although Zuko had done his best to be gentle, it look poised to disintegrate into flecks of red and gray dust. But Azula's blood ran cold the second he had presented it to her, held out so irreverently before her like the evidence of her hypocrisy, knowing that for the second time in her life he had managed to deceive her.

"Flowers are very hard to get in Wuhan." He said, pulling it back for a moment to study the ancient, frayed petals. "Especially fire blossoms. I think the last time I saw one at all was at my wedding."

"Where did you get that?" Azula's voice had passed to a whisper, deadly and grim.

"We found it under your pillow when we were taking down your cell." He said as a mere statement of fact. He didn't even smile when he said his next words. "I never thought you'd be so sentimental."

She moved with terrifying speed. The chains snapped taut with a bang that smashed off the stone walls, her fingers coming within mere inches of his throat before he pulled aside. The metal bedposts which they had tethered her to shrieked and whined under her exertion, her eyes frenzied with anger as she lunged at him futilely against her bonds. The muscles in her arms screamed in protest, the newly-healed flesh too young to stand such punishment, but her rage made her numb. "You little worm! How dare you-!"

"Ty Lee gave this to you, didn't she?" He continued, more interested in proving a point to his sister than in humiliating her with her own pretense. He had to make her see, he had to make her understand or there would have been no purpose in any of this. "You kept it for three years. You wouldn't have done that if people didn't mean anything to you. Maybe you're right, maybe you don't care about mom, but I know you care about-"

"Give it to me!" She roared. He struggles hadn't lightened, the strips of gauze wrapped around her arms had started to come undone, yet her hatred continued to peel off her, unending. He didn't know which of them she was more likely to hurt, determined as she was to wrest the tiny flower from him, to kill him for his insolence. "GIVE IT TO ME!"

In a brusque motion, he tossed it to her. To his eyes, it looked like for a second the dead flower hung motionless in the air before falling into Azula's hand and without preamble, she crushed it in her fist. The action recalled the times when she could so effortlessly summon the most chilling and vicious fires, and he didn't doubt that for a moment that she savored what it would have been like to ignite the tiny memento into devouring flames. "You think this means anything?" She showed him the crumbled dust of gray and red falling through her fingers, scattering the crumbled remains at his feet. The smell of mildew and earth filled his nostrils, her hatred washing over him like plague winds. "You think I care about this-this  _speck_? About that back-stabbing little traitor? She's nothing but a wretched coward who's too stupid to face her own consequences! She'll betray you, the Earth Kingdom, everyone, just like how she betrayed me! I hate her-I  _hate_  her! This means nothing!  _Nothing_!"

She stood before him, her chest heaving from all of her violent ravings, her body slumped forward and her eyes still staring at him with unadulterated, wild delirium. The skin around the metal cuffs had grown pink and raw, her hospital shift had fallen askew but she hadn't bothered to pull it into place. His guards had long grown uncomfortable and looked poised to receive orders to restrain Azula further, but he remained unwavering. She wasn't the monster hounding his childhood anymore. Down here, he realized that she wasn't anything at all. He didn't fear her; he pitied her.

"Maybe. Maybe you're right, maybe you do hate Ty Lee. But she's on my side now, just like Mai. Everything that used to be yours now belongs to me." He said gravely, feeling strangely devoid of any emotion. " I bet  _that_  just kills  _you_."

He turned away, allowing the hospital staff to come spilling, swarming in from the doors, skirting aside the orderlies and guards as he left. The day was still young, and he would fill it with council meetings, and the company of his wife. If anything followed him from the air and hallways of the hospital, it sloughed off him as easy as an already-forgotten memory, Azula's screams dying away the further he walked, until fading entirely into unearthly silence.

* * *

Ty Lee began her morning before the others, waking when the sky was still black and all her former squad mates were still asleep. She hummed quietly to herself, dressing in candlelight, gathering her bags and slipping between the rows of beds before she could be missed. She had already said her farewells the night before, but that didn't stop her from being a little sad as she took one last look at the building that had been her home. In reality there wasn't much to miss. Someone from the island would be reassigned to her post, and her classes would be taken over by another instructor. Even Suki had already left with Aang, departed for Kyoshi Island to make preparations ahead of them.

She reminded herself that there was something more to look forward to, something better laid before her that made everything seem newer, more exciting.

When she arrived at the airship, Miyo was already standing onboard, overseeing the dock workers. Seeing her from far off, the young officer gave her a perfunctory wave.

Practically skipping her way up the gangplank, Ty Lee greeted her captain with a good morning.

"You look happy." The older girl commented dully, not looking up, scribbling on a writing tablet as a crew of men wheeled in pallets of mortar and stone.

"Aren't you?" Ty Lee smiled brightly, shrugging her luggage onto the floor, and perching herself on a row of crates. The entourage from the hospital wasn't expected until sunrise, but she eagerly scanned the docks all the same, peering into the streets of waning moonlight for signs of soldiers and Azula. "It's been awhile since you were home, hasn't it?"

Miyo made a noncommittal sound, handing off the last of the papers to a porter as she finished inspecting the cargo beds. Sometimes Ty Lee thought that the girl was growing even more laconic Mai. It didn't really bother her. In fact, it frequently recalled warm memories. Besides, when Suki had made the announcement at the officers' meeting, Miyo had been the only one to have stepped forward for the job, and for that Ty Lee loved her all the more.

"Wow, I think we can build a whole new village." Ty Lee continued amiably, peeking under a tarp to find endless barrels of iron ore. The crate she was sitting on was marked with textiles, and even more were marked with medical supplies. Zuko had delivered on his word, sharing every feasible material in exchange for his sister's safety.

"Just rebuilding old ones." Miyo replied distantly, leaning over the railing to examine the flow of workmen. Even with the paperwork finished, it didn't seem like the storage would be finished for some time. Ty Lee rested her chin in her hand, watching the port decks and listening to the dull grind of the engines warming to life beneath their feet.

Below them, the city was waking. Soon, the empty streets would be filled, the citizens of the capitol waking to begin their day the same way they always had, doing the same things they had always done. And yet today it was different somehow because, unfelt and invisible, one more of them would be gone.

Morning came as suddenly as their appearance, the fingers of yellow and gold stretching from the horizon. The light bled away the shroud of stars and night, peeling away the shapes of gray and black marching down the causeway, both of them seeing her at the same time.

"Is that your princess?"

Azula stood at the foot of the airship, ringed in the constant armor of her escorts, bound neck to wrist to ankle in steel. Their eyes found each other, connecting instantly from across the expanse between them. It was hard not to be optimistic in that moment, knowing the world and the promise that was in front of them. Azula was nothing that Ty Lee hadn't expected-hadn't waited for-and even with such venom and spite that stared back at her, Ty Lee only had the one answer.

"Yes."


	14. Tomorrow, My Friend

Emi, as usual, was the most excited.

She hid it behind an unsure smile, too guilty to show it to her companions, although she was sure they had to have guessed. She was the youngest, and everyone said that all her emotions showed too easily on her face.

They had been already waiting by the time she got to the guardhouse, each of them standing in a circle around the remnants of the night's fire, warming their hands. They greeted her amicably, but otherwise did not pause in their conversations.

Morning frost crunched underneath her feet as she moved closer to the fire. Next to her, Yui shifted to make room, the tall girl peering curiously at her before turning to light another stub of tobacco. Nearby, Fumi crinkled her nose, but remained silent.

The squad had grown uncharacteristically somber lately. Emi wondered how much of it could be owed to the island's new arrivals and how much should be owed to Miyo's captaincy. She thought about what Suki would have done if she were here, their unflappable leader. No sooner had Suki returned home than she was summoned away, gone with the Avatar and Oyaji to the mainland to appease the kings and to pledge Kyoshi Island to Ba Sing Se anew. She was a thousand miles away, and the only help the islanders would have in this would be from each other.

The elders had been so furious when Suki gave them the news. Emi had heard them fighting in the town hall after the council meeting, the elders screaming and Suki replying forlornly. For a while it seemed like there were a lot of people mad at her, and Emi couldn't help but feel bad. But whenever she tried to bring it up to the others, they'd just look at her like she didn't know any better. It was a look that was too familiar to her, and always made her regret being too young to have joined the war.

"I wonder what the princess looks like." Emi said, eager to join their rapport when she realized who they were talking about. She loved gossip as much as anyone.

"Not very pretty." Aya made a derisive noise, poking the dying embers with a stick. "Royal families are all inbred."

Emi paused to consider that, but the only person who could have vouched for the prisoner's appearance had wandered off to search for a more peaceable place to smoke.

"You'll find out soon enough." Suzu said, her voice making it clear that she would have rathered everyone shut up. Her attitude was commonplace. It seemed like half the island had taken on Suzu's attitude of staunch disregard, like if they were all stubborn enough then the woman would just magically disappear. It seemed absurd.

Voices came from within the guardhouse. The locks of the door rattled and it sent Emi clambering to stand at attention. Around her, no one else moved, although she could hear Aya snickering.

"Good morning, guys!" Ty Lee greeted them with the same infallible liveliness that Emi remembered her for. She smiled back, feeling the rest of her company shift sullenly next to her, she was compelled to give at least a small wave.

Predictably, Miyo was much more reserved, addressing them with curt nods. In her hand was a ring of keys.

But it was the third girl that they followed with their eyes. Metal jangled as she walked, the chains doing little to lessen her stride or detract from the suggestions of purpose within her movements. She stared right back at them, her lip curled with contempt, looking at them as if she hadn't been the one bound in irons. She seemed remarkably undaunted by her surroundings: her bondage, the island, the village that must have looked so small in comparison to the places she had seen, and least of all, the soldiers in front of her.

Ty Lee opened her mouth, looking to say something that might have diffused the air, but was cut off with a gesture from Miyo.

"Princess Azula this is the squad that has been charged with your care. The women here will be handling the enforcement of your duties, as well as the safety of your person. I suggest you get to know them; their primary job is to ensure your security and comfort."

The princess didn't look the slightest bit convinced. "My gaolers are worried about my protection. How nice."

Miyo frowned, obviously unused to having someone-let alone a prisoner-mock her so backhandedly.

"They're okay, 'Zula. They won't hurt you." Ty Lee said, but in truth, Emi wasn't so sure. The familiarity between the two Fire Nation women was evident enough, and it disturbed the others to finally see it. The island was small enough where everyone knew someone who had been on the Boiling Rock, and the Kyoshi Warriors never had received their vengeance. Ty Lee's loyalty had always been dubious to those who had suffered beneath Fire Nation imprisonment, exacerbated by the fact that she had done little to hide her former friendship with the Fire Nation's royal family. "You'll like it on Kyoshi Island." Emi doubted that even more.

Up close, Princess Azula looked even younger than Emi had expected. Her face, though thin and pale, looked wrought from marble. Her eyes were molten amber, and her gaze just as hot when she looked at them. Emi had never seen royalty-let alone a princess-but she was sure that this is what they all should have looked like.

_She's not pretty, she's gorgeous._

Ty Lee introduced each warrior in turn, but no one said a word of greeting. When they came to Emi, she couldn't help herself.

"It's nice to meet you, Princess Azula." She bowed with a duck of her head, her words coming out too fast.

Perfectly formed eyebrows arched themselves. "Finally, someone has manners."

"Ty Lee told me a lot about you." She blurted out. The princess looked even more surprised. It had been the truth, though. She had developed a certain fondness for Ty Lee, who back during her training period was always quick to encouragement and never treated her like a child like everyone else did.

_She said that you were beautiful, that you could be brave as you were brutal, and all other things, but the look on her face when she talked about you embarrassed me and I looked away._

"She never shuts up, that's true I suppose." The princess said before turning away, ignoring Ty Lee's abashed laugh.

By then the dimness of the sky had begun to fade away, the sun was peeking out from the horizon, its light seeping over the distant ocean in a hard golden line.

Aya had stamped out the remnants of the fire, and the rest of the company gathered their belongings to begin heading out, tying on swords and pulling on gloves. They would have a long day of walking, if Emi understood it correctly.

"Ready to see the village, Azula?" Ty Lee asked. To Emi, it seemed like Ty Lee was asking her out for a lark instead of a guarded march through the streets and hills. There was a purpose in all this if she remembered Suki's words right. They were to show the princess the entire island, although for what exact reason Emi couldn't fathom.

"You say that like I have a choice." The other girl replied without the scantest trace of emotion.

After locking the guardhouse, Miyo pointed in the direction of the village square to indicate that they were to follow. The warriors fell into formation, two leading, and two following, with Ty Lee and Miyo on either side. It seemed awfully stringent, but Yui had told her that appearances were important and that it was to make the villagers feel safe. One would have thought that chains alone could make anyone feel safe from a single person.

* * *

When she was fourteen, Azula won a great victory.

It was strange that in the face of all that had happened that she could remember it so clearly. Her father had welcomed her home with honors, and the city had grown raucous when they came out to see her. She had written her name in Ba Sing Se's walls, and knew then that her people would remember her long after her time was gone. She felt, in that moment, that she would live forever. Her home was a faraway fantasy.

Kyoshi Island was a rat hole.

Azula had seen countless other places like it, wretched and shabby, where the peasants looked more like their livestock than civilized people. The streets reeked with a pungent miasma of dust, sweat, and cow dung. The smell had greeted her when they first landed, when she had been hauled bodily from the airship into the dark cell of the guardhouse, filling her nostrils and reminding her of exactly what kind of life she had been sentenced to, to die on a flea infested island.

The first night, Ty Lee had stayed with her the whole time. In the guardhouse, Azula had come to the hard realization that there was something that bothered her more than the island, more than what her brother had said to her.

Outside, things she knew became more evident. For the first time since she was fourteen (forever ago), high above the clouds with the wind in her hair, she felt free. The airship rumbling beneath her feet made her think of an old memory, and she remembered times when the lights in the cities glittering below them weren't lanterns or torches. It had made the fact that much harder to swallow that on this island, she was no one. If she had ever belonged to something, it might as well have been a thousand years fading in the past.

"People here are nice." Ty Lee had bedded down on the bench beside Azula's cot, fluffing the limp sack of her pillow hopelessly. "You'll like them, you'll see." Even in the dark, Azula could see her confidence and how she believed every word she said.

Ty Lee changed her clothes as easily as she changed herself. Azula thought about the girl's academy and how she had chosen Ty Lee for her paradoxical talents of being able to blend in, and possessing skills that she had never seen before. The children of nobles lived in great mansions, lavish and gaudy. Even from a minor house, the Ty Lee that Azula had known was a girl grown from the extravagance of court life. Places like circuses were a child's fancy, a phase she had anticipated would burn out as fast as it had started (and better sooner than later, she had thought.) Ty Lee had always been a child, chasing the temperament of her whims, and never finding time for duty or discipline.

But Kyoshi Island wasn't the circus. There weren't any bright colors or the tawdry sounds of the organ grinder. Only an island that smelled like salt and rotten eggs.

It baffled Azula almost as much as it enraged her.

"The villages are connected through the river way. Farmlands are to the north. Further up are the mountains and forests. Come winter they'll be frozen over. The only bay is to the south. Everything else is cliff and rocks…"

She had taken to tuning out the droning of her warden. The girl loved to hear the sound of her own voice, talking as if she always had something to prove. She loved telling others what to do-telling Ty Lee what to do. All Azula had to do was take a look between them, and everything became so clear. It was disgusting. She wasn't sure if Ty Lee even knew about it yet.

"Look, 'Zula! You can see the ocean from here!"

Ty Lee was pointing with one hand, shielding her eyes with the other, seemingly mesmerized with a sight that she should have seen countless times before. The long trail of her officer's jacket blew behind her, the wind pinning her hair back around her face.

It had gotten to the point where the more Azula looked at her, the less angry she was, replaced with a heaviness in her heart that she couldn't place.

She pulled her arms across herself, her hands hardening into fists. It was no use thinking about things that were gone, but with every cold breath of wind, her body ached for the warmth that used to come to easy to her. Its absence was a vice in her chest. She would have annihilated Zuko in that hospital room, burned him until he was nothing but a fleck in the ground if only her body had remembered how. Lately, all she ever was now was cold. The perpetual fever in her skin burning itself from her inside out couldn't have warmed her anymore than the flimsy trivial that Ty Lee spouted to keep the silence away.

She had listened, silent as stone, when the physicians told her how she would never again bend fire to her will. How she would die if she even attempted to try.

"Cargo ships from the Fire Nation will not leave unless we have your presence accounted for-Princess Azula, are you paying attention?"

"You were just telling me how inescapable this island was." The tour was so obvious and she wasn't sure if they were even trying to hide it with the guarded escort. In the distance she saw the tiny fishing barges returning to harbor, and the glimmering scales of the massive Unagi as it slipped beneath the water. She had to hand it to Zuko, he had really thought this one out.

"This island is a dump." She declared to no one in particular.

The captain's eyes narrowed at her. "Considering your prolonged stay, I would suggest that you get used to it."

She had already grown tired of Miyo some hours past. "I really doubt it." They had been dragging her around for the whole morning and it left her in a sour mood. She had forgotten how overprotective peasants could be about their miserable little towns and sorry places they came from.

The villagers had come out en masse to see her. Of course, none of them let on as such. They came under pretense of chores, pushing carts of radishes and bales of grain, pulling their mule-rams down the muddy road on way supposedly to the market. There were so many of them, old women and men peddling vegetables, mothers herding groups of children, young boys tossing a ball in a field. A group of girls were sitting along a fence and talking excitedly among themselves, but fell quiet as they walked by.

She knew that they were all looking at her. She felt their eyes, distrustful and curious, all eager to see the disgraced Fire Nation princess in the flesh. Their hostility bordered on the overt, and she wondered in passing how many of their sisters, daughters and wives she had tortured under the Boiling Rock.

By chance, her eyes found those of a young boy's. His knees and ankles caked in dust from the road, he pulled untiringly at a barrow laden to a height well larger than his own. Upon noticing her and the Kyoshi Warriors, he stopped and looked at her in open scrutiny. On an impulse, she gave him a glare that on experience would have sent soldiers twice his age flinching away. To her surprise, he didn't so much as blink, staring at her with unnerving plainness.

"For the time being, you'll be working on the passes between the grains fields and villages. Some areas have fallen into disrepair and need tending to. It should suffice until we find you something more permanent."

They had led her to the town's outskirts, Miyo talking the entire way, and Ty Lee giving her what was intended to be reassuring smile. The remainder of the retinue was thankfully-although oddly-silent.

They were on a stretch of dirt road that ran between fields of rice plants and water ferns, disappearing beyond their sight into the mountain foothills. It was a strategically disadvantaged location. A person standing upright could be spotted from miles off.

She stared at the pile of stone sitting by the roadside, and back at the shovel and rake that leaned carelessly against it. She didn't want to look at the wooden stake driven into the ground, as thick as her torso, and as tall as she was. The iron ring attached to it gave it a very simple purpose, and the more she thought it, the more she dreaded it.

"Parts of the road need to be repaved. It's construction will be your responsibility, any failures of defects and you'll tear it up and do it again. You'll meet with a foreman periodically, and two members of the squad will supervise you in the day, two at night."

There was a great irony watching all these women stand around her dictating the salient points of her new life. Undoubtedly, it wasn't lost on any of them. All of this had been deliberate, had taken thought and a lot of planning. For a countless time that day, she found herself looking at Ty Lee.

She seemed surprised when Azula caught her eye. Beneath Miyo's driveling words, Ty Lee said something reassuringly to her that she missed.

It was hard to tell what had been dreams and what were memories. In the smoky incense at the Wuhan hospital, everything had been the same. It seemed like for as long as she could remember, Ty Lee had always been there reaching through to tell her that everything would be okay. When she closed her eyes at night, she could still feel Ty Lee's fingers stroking her hair and telling her that things would get better. It pained her to know how much she had wanted to believe those words, how much she had relied on them. The absence of the incense was like waking from a deep slumber, and when she returned to herself, all of a sudden things were clear again. It didn't stop her from remembering those feelings, and all of her knowledge of mental complexes and syndromes didn't help her humiliation or make it any more bearable to be in Ty Lee's company.

The girl had ulterior motives. This fact was something that Azula had never doubted. Her father had taught her (early and with great force) that people always wanted something, and that every kindness had a price. Ty Lee's purpose, if not sinister (like her brother had argued so fiercely), would be something else. There would be something else to pay, but one that for the first time in a long while, it was something she could not see.

The prickling at the back of her neck was an unsettling familiarity. She knew what the doctors didn't, that no matter how much incense they burned or how many herbs they put in her medicine, that she would never be free of this. She had been a child when she first learned to distrust her eyes, and she would be dead long before its fidelity returned.

 _She'll betray you again._ Her father's voice was as clear to her as if he had spoken straight into her ear. She stared straight ahead. If she looked to her side, she would see him standing there speaking to her from beneath the trees, whispering every lesson, every virtue he had instilled her with to remind her that they was greater, and better.  _She'll wait for your weaknesses, and betray you all over again._

 _I know._ Ty Lee's eyes were brown flecked with gray, like ashes falling to the earth. In them, she saw the things that she once mistook as sincerity and obedience, as friendliness and warmth. The smile on Ty Lee's lips was treacherous, the gentleness she gave was a placating cloak, and yet the clarity imprisonment gave her was as painful and honest as any knife against Azula's back.  _I know._

* * *

It was deep in the evening by the time Ty Lee got home. She walked the path down to the shore alone, guiding her way past the beach by memory, and up to the solitary house nestled between the pebbled dunes and the treeline. Passing through town, people she recognized smiled politely and waved, and she paused to exchange passing pleasantries but for the most part she was left alone.

The empty vegetable garden and torn paper screens reminded her of duties she had meant to do but neglected. The air remained stale from when she had forgotten to air out the windows, but it was already late and the chores would have to be finished in the morning.

It was strange that after living in this house for years that its emptiness should bother her only now. She couldn't say to understand Miyo on her decision making, and certainly not on this issue, but she packed away the extra futon all the same, determined not to be troubled by its bareness. When she had said goodnight to Azula at the guardhouse, she wondered if she had hid her disappointment well. Azula seemed to be neither worse nor better, and so Ty Lee was determined to forget it as well. She hadn't expected the Kyoshi Warriors to learn to completely trust her by now anyways.

Shrugging out of her uniform, she folded her hakama away with swift deftness and pulled the ornaments out of her hair. The act of washing at the basin reminded her of the day's events and made her worry all the more. It had been a good day, she told herself. It could have gone a lot worse. She thought so even as she remembered the looks on people's faces when they had walked Azula through the streets. Miyo had a point when she said that Azula's constant escort was for her own protection, but it was Ty Lee's fervent hope there would be no weight in it.

Blowing out the lantern, she crawled into bed, determined to chase away the heaviness of her meditation with more pleasant thoughts.

Everyday was a new day. She knew that there were more positives than negatives.

Tomorrow, she would go back to her old post training new recruits, and Azula would begin her work sentence, and every day was another day away from Wuhan. Every moment was a gift.

In the dark, she could see the blinking of stars through the smoke vent in the thatched roof. Above all things in her time away from Kyoshi Island, Ty Lee had missed the stars, the likes of which she had never seen in all her years in the Fire Nation and abroad. Sometimes, she had wished idly to herself that there would be a time where Azula could see something so beautiful, to see something besides that awful barred underground hospital cell. She was sure that Azula would be comforted by the greatness of all those blinking lights, making everything else seem that much smaller.

And now Ty Lee had the very distinct and undecided pleasure of having her wish come true.

"Nighttime is the best time in Kyoshi Island." She had said to Azula, walking side by side with her when they led her through the underbrush and deep into the forest. "It doesn't get so humid. The stars are really pretty too-well, I guess you can't see them very well right now."

They had walked through periodic silence, the sounds of crunching foliage and vegetation making more of a conversation than any words. Their duties done for the day, much of the squad had already left for their homes, leaving only the scheduled rotation of warriors that would accompany Azula day and night.

They had brought Azula to a pond enshrouded by the surrounding pines and brush to bathe. It was well-hidden and its seclusion gave it a certain measure of privacy. Fed by mountain springs and draining downhill into agricultural cisterns, the water was clean and pristine even in the darkness.

It had been decided for the safety of everyone that Azula live as far away from the daily lives of the villagers as possible. While it felt impractical with her work sentence, effort was made to seclude her in all other ways. It felt unfair to Ty Lee, who believed that there was more rehabilitation (rebuilding) done in measures of awarded freedom and discovery of a new life than in punishment or discipline. Her suggestions had all but fallen upon deaf ears.

"Don't wander upstream." Yui had said, walking up to Azula with key in hand and taking hold of her wrists. In a fall of clanking metal, the heavy chains had fallen from her manacles and pooled around the princess' feet. "That's where the farmers get their drinking water. They know not to come here so you don't have to worry about them."

The Kyoshi Warriors standing around them must have offended her anyways. It was of course to be one thing to live under the constant scrutiny of doctors and nurses, and quite another to do it with the people here.

"You know this really isn't helping what they say about Kyoshi Warriors." Azula replied as she unbuttoned her shirt and relished the new weightlessness of her body. The air had been colder, but the princess had hardly seemed to notice it. "But I suppose with uselessness and weakness attached to your reputation, you might as well have perversion tacked on."

Beside her, Ty Lee felt Yui stiffen in indignation and didn't have to look to know the sentiments of the others. "Oh Azula's just joking." She had blurted out with an empty laugh, despite the fact that it was abundantly clear that Azula was not the joking kind. "She doesn't take that stuff seriously. We went to an all girl's school and people said that about us all the time too." She had no idea what possessed her to say something like that.

Azula had ignored them, kicking her shoes off and moving to the edge of the water, pulling off her shirt as she went. Even in the dark, staring at the lone patch of sky, Ty Lee couldn't get the image out of her head of Azula standing in her chemise, the unearthly glow of the moon doing nothing to hide the mottled, fused skin of purple and pink running down her arms. Azula didn't wear her topknot anymore. When she let her hair down from her ponytail, it fell down her naked back, obscuring the metal collar and making her appear like a normal girl instead of an imprisoned exile. For some reason, looking at her then had made Ty Lee feel vulnerable and alone.

She hadn't known that she had been staring until Azula snapped at her.

"Do you  _mind_?"

She had looked away, knowing that the others wouldn't afford Azula the same courtesy.

In the palace, Azula had bathed with luxurious oils and scented her hair with perfume. There were lotions and creams for every part of her body, and numerous attendants tasked with drying her with the softest towels when she rose from the bath. To Azula, bathing had been her time for private indulgence. Here, there had been a wretched half bar of soap, and the smallest, dullest razor that Ty Lee had ever seen in her life. She was certain that even the hospitals had afforded Azula more.

To her credit, Azula hadn't said anything, which Ty Lee knew was more out of her pride than acceptance of her circumstances. The princess would rather suffer silently than let her captors know how much she despised it.

It was now that Ty Lee was faced with the stark realization that something in her relationship with Azula had changed since the Four Nation Summit. It had been changing for a long time, she just hadn't been careful enough to notice. She remembered the coldness with which Azula had turned her away at the guardhouse. It felt strange that Azula couldn't stand to even be touched by her, her aloofness was equally disheartening. Ty Lee had never thought that they would return to being the friends they used, but they had undoubtedly been getting…better.

 _She needed comfort, not me._ Ty Lee thought with bitterness.  _Whenever she looks at me, all she sees is what she's lost._

She could never truly say to have regretted what she had done. When she started being honest with herself, she knew she would have done everything the same. She relived the moment in dreams and nightmares, turning it over in her mind to see what she had missed, what she could have done differently, but always came back to the same place and Azula to her same fate.

_I would have been more patient. I would have asked her about things, like her mom and Zuko. I would have told her that she doesn't have to be so lonely. But I still would have stopped her. I still would have betrayed her, and she knows it._

But it wasn't about her. It wasn't about the things done, about things in the past that they couldn't change. Now, they could move forward, where Azula could have a chance at something new. Ty Lee knew what no one else did, that sometimes the things that heal you are the things you never expect.

They would make it through okay in the end, she knew that. But there was something more to it that Ty Lee wanted, something else that twinged whenever she remembered Azula standing in the moonlight, naked under her shift.

_I can help her now. I can help her in ways I couldn't before._

The more she thought about it, the more she believed it, and her newfound confidence comforted her. When she closed her eyes again, it felt easier to go to sleep. Somewhere, not so far away, Azula was sleeping too and Ty Lee fell to her dreams knowing that tomorrow they would meet their new lives together.

* * *

True to her predictions, they chained her to the post.

A long, cumbersome metal rope four times long as she was tall bound her collar to the iron ring in the wooden column. It dragged as she worked, weighing her down and slowing her pace. They had at least taken off the other chains binding her limbs, but the chi-locks remained in place as she knew they would. She knew then why Zuko had made new manacles for her. Though relatively light and gentle, the bindings still chafed her skin and by noon her wrists were already raw. She had been forced to tear her hair scarf in half and stuff the strips of cloth under the metal, and no sooner did she were they then spotted with blood.

"How does it feel to be working for your meals now, Your Highness?" One of her guards was just as talkative as Ty Lee, with the only difference that everything out of her mouth became insults or mockery. "Not so easy without people to wait on you hand and foot, huh?"

Azula gritted her teeth, stomping harder on the shovel as she toiled away at the trench that seemed to refill itself with twice more dirt for every shovelful she unearthed. It was a fool's task; she had been digging the same stretch for hours now with no end in sight. As far as she was concerned, they might as well have her roll stones up a mountain. "Now I know why the Earth Kingdom was so easy to conquer. Everyone was too busy wallowing in the mud."

They had set her about correcting the gutters that lined parts of the road, insistent on the timeliness of its accomplishment before the snows came. Their urgency was entirely hollow; the sun had been beating down on her since its appearance in the sky and winter was nowhere in sight. The whole thing was a ploy, a way to watch her suffer.

"Give me water." She demanded, stabbing the spade into the ground and wiping her brow with the back of her forearm. Her back and limbs ached, begging for reprieve. Years of sitting in a cell and inhaling smoke had sapped her of strength and any physical vigor that she had during the war. Frequently, she had to stop to catch her breath, and her skinny arms quaked and shuddered under burdens that she would have borne so easily before. But if the Kyoshi Warriors thought that she could be so easily broken, they were grievously mistaken.

"We're not your servants, princess." The same girl replied snidely. "Besides, you don't stop for another few hours."

"Stop antagonizing her." The other one said around a roll of tobacco, thoroughly annoyed with her companion. Grabbing the wooden pail, the tall girl left it next to the chained column before going back to where she had been waiting on the grass. "If we get in trouble, I'm not backing you up." She said warningly, ignoring the noise of disdain as she stubbed out the cigarette.

Azula drank deep from the ladle, savoring the coolness as the water trickled down her throat. The sun was low in the sky, but the scorching temperature of the day had not stopped. What Ty Lee said was true, the humidity was hardly bearable; the very heat in the air clung to her skin, and with it her clothes and every iota of dust in the air. Sitting down at the edge of the trench, she pulled off her work gloves and winced as she flexed her hands. Her blisters had opened, as did the gash in the nest of her palm from when she had been too careless moving a stubborn anchor of stone. Ty Lee had bound it with a handkerchief from her mid-morning visit, but the afternoon's work had soon torn the wound open again. Blood, pus, and sweat made her hands slick and aggravated her injuries even more.

"Not so tough are you?" The girl with the rat face sneered.

"Take these locks off and we'll see." Azula bit savagely, but the other girl only laughed.

"You wish. Besides, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Nobody on this island has the key. In fact, didn't Ty Lee say that the only key is with the Fire Lord?" She looked over at her friend as if looking for a response, but then clucked her tongue. "Who knows. No one can trust what that whore says-" She frowned, grabbing the back of her head from where the butt of tobacco had struck her and glaring at the offending perpetrator.

"Aya, please shut up."

By nightfall, Azula's body was screaming in agony with every fall of the pick and heave of the shovel. Any feeling in her hands had long since left, along with the last reserves of her energy. It hurt to breathe, let alone talk or move. The shrieking of cicadas had given away to the singing of crickets, and the hour that Aya had spoken of had already came and went. Exhausted, she dropped the shovel from her fingerless grasp and moved to sit down by the base of the post to quench her thirst again. There wasn't any need to press the issue of a recess and no one looked to force her back to working. Both of the Kyoshi women were distracted by other worries.

"Where  _are_  they?" The girl named Yui asked impatiently with her eyes squinted down the dark road. The lantern they had lit didn't seem to be lasting much longer and while she perched it on Azula's post, the light it cast was already dwindling and didn't reach far. "They were supposed to be here by now."

"Some idiot totally messed up the schedules." Aya said idly, viciously plucking at a flower.

"They better show up soon. I have to get home. I work crops tomorrow." The taller girl looked practically mutinous, pacing the length of Azula's trench and looking impatiently from one end of the road to the next.

"I'm not running down to headquarters, if like that's what you're thinking. I'm tired." To illustrate, she yawned widely and ignored her friend's glower. "You can leave now if you want, though." She said with a look in Azula's direction. "It's not like she's not going anywhere."

Yui seemed to contemplate that, hesitating for a brief instant, but one look at the moon rising higher and her mind was made up. Snatching up her things from where she had been resting, she hastily set about preparing to leave. "Just watch her for a little bit longer. I'll see if I can drop by the office and check if they're on their way."

"You so owe me." Aya said, calling after the figure running off into the dark. "You're going to pick up some of my shifts, right?" She shrugged when there was no reply, going back to picking at the grass. Sensing that someone was looking at her, she bristled when she looked over. "What are you looking at?"

"You remind me of my brother." Azula said lightly, her eyes focusing on her like it had been a thought that had been plaguing her that all of a sudden seemed to make sense. "Lazy as well as childish."

Aya's look darkened, and she rose to her feet. "You really have a mouth on you."

"I'm sorry, I can't tell if you're threatening or flirting with me."

Aya had a barb at her lips, but stopped suddenly, halted by movement in the shadows. Azula heard it as well, her ears straining to hear the sound of voices and footsteps, turning her head to face the sudden glow of a single lantern moving through the darkness. Its sudden appearance was a surprise and Aya reacted by shoving away roughly. "We'll finish this later, princess." Aya cautioned, walking away to meet her colleagues.

"Hey, finally! Where were you guys?"

Someone giggled. As the dark shapes approached Azula could hear other voices, deep and distinctly male. They weren't the Kyoshi Warriors who had come to change guard shifts. Instead of a pair of women, the newcomers were a single girl flanked by two thick-necked and bovine-looking men. They had been joking loudly with each other, and upon hearing Aya's voice they were excited to see the girl waiting for them with lantern in hand.

But when they drew closer, the trio paused in alarm, looking from the Kyoshi Warrior to the chained figure by the side of the road. Recognition dawned on them and when they looked back to Aya their looks of joviality had been replaced with something else.

"Hey Aya." The girl hesitated, approaching ahead of her companions. "Are you on guard duty?"

In the blink of an eye, the confidence and egotism that had been so characteristic of the young Kyoshi Warrior collapsed. The way in which the question had been said implied an element unknown to Azula. Something about them made Aya afraid, it was plain as day. Something about them shamed the girl enough to deprive her of further wit and jest.

"No." Aya protested sharply, flushing pink. "Yui had to check on the rest of the squad; I'm just doing her a favor."

One of the apish boys gave his companion a nudge with his elbow. His whisper was actually more of a shocked exclamation. "Man, that's the princess."

It brought a deep sense of satisfaction to watch the same girl who had unrelentingly hounded her for the entire day be all of a sudden reduced to a blushing, embarrassed mess in front of her friends. Aya looked mortified and her face was tinting an ever darker shade of red. She looked unsure as to how to appeal to their probing, expectant looks.

"Miyo made me. It's not like I wanted to." She replied defiantly.

"Well yeah, that must be tough protecting the person who messed up your sister so badly. I mean, does she even leave the house anymore?" The girl scoffed.

Aya looked stunned.

The curiosities of the crowd had moved beyond immediate concerns. The unnamed woman strode past Aya, her eyes fixed at the prisoner bound to the wooden pillar. "This is the infamous Fire Nation princess?" She walked encircling where Azula stood, examining her with prying scrutiny, her gaze traveling up and down the length of her body, taking in the chains and the makeshift bandages on her hands. More entertained than anything else, Azula stared back, trying her best to not laugh. "Can't break people anymore, can you? You know people like Aya have to work just so they can support their sisters. Fuyu was quite the warrior in her day. You gonna apologize to her for that?"

Azula answered honestly. "I passed so many of you to my soldiers, I really can't tell the difference between all of you."

The retort was unexpected. Just as daunted as Aya and the others in her company, the woman was appalled into a temporary silence, long enough for one of the boys to snap irritably.

"Aya are you going to take that from her?"

The Kyoshi Warrior was visibly troubled. She had been debating something in her mind for a while, ever since her friends had shown up unannounced. She looked from the lantern that Yui had left her to Azula standing with the chain around her neck, and the decision seemed to be made easier. It would be remiss to say that Azula hadn't foreseen the same outcome, seen the seeded desire for vengeance in Aya's eyes, anticipated the girl's nature and where it would take her.

Her own actions weren't needed. Stupid as she was, Aya was intelligent enough to know that her implication in this would be disastrous should she take part. She was content to watch, looking at the princess and waiting.

"Someone needs to teach you a lesson." The other girl said, emboldened twice more now that she had someone else's honor at stake, and an audience.

"You must feel pretty good about yourself needing each other to talk big." Azula curled her lip scornfully. "I guess Earth Kingdom trash is the same no matter where you go. None of you can do anything for yourself."

It would be infinitely easier than fighting her brother, easier than kicking a pack of mangy dogs and sending them back in their place. But she was equally aware of the disadvantaged numbers, the thickly muscled men that dwarfed her in height, and how heavy her own body felt. How tired she was.

Her arms fell to her sides, her fingertips instinctively trying to call the fire that didn't come, the chi collecting and resting impotently at the base of her wrists and ankles.

"I could have tortured a thousand of you and it still wouldn't have mattered to me."

She saw the slap coming from miles away. Exhausted as she was, Azula caught it effortlessly and twisted until she heard the telltale crack that sent a cry of agony rippling through the air. A blow from her elbow simultaneously broke the girl's nose and sent her into the road ditch.

She dodged the first lumbering man easily. A smart strike to the back of his head sent his face into the wooden column. A trail of red followed his head from where he slumped into the dirt.

It should have been just as easy to dodge the charge from the second one who had finally collected his senses enough to react. Five years ago she would have skirted him aside and lit the entire length of his body on fire as he went sprawling by. But her body wouldn't obey her. It felt sluggish, hampered by the weight of metal and the sudden lethargy that plagued her. His tackle sent them both crashing into the earth, with him sitting astride her, pinning her to the ground as he slammed his fist into her jaw.

The taste of blood erupted in her mouth, and the blow sent her head slamming backwards. Her vision reeled and stomach heaved as she threatened to black out. Before he could hit her again, she reached down and drove the crown of her knuckles into his testicles.

She rolled him off, rising to her feet, only to find that the girl risen as well, steadying herself with shovel in hand.

"Use the chain, you oaf!" She shouted behind Azula, sprays of spittle and blood enunciating her words.

Before Azula could spring back to slacken the line, a jerk sent her stumbling back by her throat. She tried to catch herself, but was pulled back again and she pitched backwards into waiting hands that pinned her arms behind her, kicked her knees out and forced her back to the ground.

"You're going to pay for that you stupid bitch." A voice snarled in her ear as someone took a hold of the chi-lock on her right wrist and wrenched it cruelly with a sickening pop.

She screamed. White hot pain lanced through her shoulder and she nearly fainted. Stars exploded in her eyes when someone else struck her across the face again. The rest of them had fallen on her like a pack of hounds, each of them tearing with bloodthirst. She tried to cough, but someone was holding her windpipe closed with a hard grip on her collar. Later, when her vision cleared enough, she found herself lying on the ground with the same girl standing over her, shovel in hand. Azula tried to stand up, halted by the boot in her chest that held her in place.

"You're going to know what it's like." The trembling girl said as blood continued to weep down her nose and face, dripping into Azula's hair. Her hands on the shovel continued to quake, shuddering with adrenaline with every blow she drove into Azula's face and body, the keen edge of the spade crushing bone and separating flesh. Her eyes grew frenzied, and soon the blood that splashed onto her face and ran down her arms were not her own. She kept on striking her, beating her long after fatigue had set in and fresh blood ran onto the ground and into the new road gutter. "You're going to know what it's like to feel weak and miserable."


	15. Inside It Feels All the Same

"Cheers!" The circle of women echoed in unison, kissing the edges of their glasses together in a sequestered corner of the room.

Beer frothed over the edges of their glasses as they drank and refilled each other's cups, celebrating the end of the work week with age old tradition. The restaurant was loud and boisterous, a popular place in the village for merchant and farmhand alike to indulge after a hard week's worth of work, and well-suited for the purposes of the Kyoshi Warriors to relax with each other outside of professional boundaries. It was getting towards the evening when they were all able to arrive, all the ones who were popular or mattered. But where their regular meetings were usually colored with laughter and smiles was on this occasion unusually sullen and subdued.

They crowded around each other, cramped into the corner table a few seats too small to have been comfortable, lacking in the same joviality that they had before been so familiar to them. They went through the motions all the same.

"Worst week ever." Suzu groaned, always the first to voice what everyone else was thinking.

"Well it can only get better." Fumi said, selecting a stick of skewered poultry parts and gulping the meat down with a deep draught of her beer. Normally the most quiet and reserved among them, she found herself continually making the most conversation in the presence of her squad mates' uncharacteristic moods. She glanced worriedly at Emi, who although wasn't allowed beer, was hitting her cider a little too hard and was now hiccupping into her cup. Yui retrieved a plate of pickled cabbage from the nearby waitress before waving her away. Aya-she couldn't help but notice-was unusually silent.

Fumi's words went ignored, and when she looked back to Suzu, the girl wasn't even paying attention anymore.

"The Fire Lord sent a letter." Suzu continued absently, like the whole thing was just a big hassle to her. "Says he wants to bring her home, that she should be in the 'land of her forefathers' to bring her peace."

Yui rubbed her eyes like she hadn't slept in days. "I saw Ty Lee reading a letter from the Fire Lady."

"She won't stop crying." Fumi hated to concede the knowledge that she had on multiple occasions heard the Fire Nation girl weeping in the bathroom. She knew that she was the minority in her sentiments, but it wasn't like Ty Lee had ever asked to be put in that situation to begin with. She couldn't fathom what it must be like to work so hard for something, only to have it evaporate and disappear when you had gotten so close to the end. To have your hopes die so pathetically.

There was a lull, no one knowing what to say.

"It's all my fault!" Emi wailed, dropping her head onto her arms and starting to sob.

Next to her, Yui winced (hesitating), hovering a hand over the other girl's shoulder before deciding on an awkward pat.

"I-It was my fault I didn't show up on time. I should have gotten there sooner. Wuh-Wuh-When I got there, she was…she was…" There was more sobbing as the girl collapsed into tears and began to cry uncontrollably. Ever the squad's pillar of support, Yui handed her a fistful of napkins, wincing at the ensuing sound that was akin to a foghorn.

Fumi was expecting a smart retort or at very least a mild jab at Emi's expense, but the person usually giving her customary barbs remained quiet throughout. The inaction didn't go unnoticed by the others.

"Aya?"

The other girl gave a small start when she realized she was being addressed, and Fumi shared a worried look over Emi's head at Yui, who appeared just as unconvinced as she was.

"Are you alright?" Yui asked incredulously.

"What? Yeah, I'm fantastic. Why wouldn't I be?" Aya replied a bit too quickly. To prove a point, she grabbed a nearby pitcher of beer from where it had been resting by Suzu's elbow and busied herself with drinking as much ale as feasible for a girl her size. "This is the greatest news ever. Bitch totally got what was coming to her." She finished, biting into a stick of meat and onions to avoid meeting their eyes.

They had no one to blame but themselves. Fumi tried very hard to ignore how nobody knew for certain what happened that night, and how they were all just ignoring the glaring holes in Aya's story and Yui's furtive glances to her shift partner. Suzu, as usual, didn't seem to care, and truthfully, neither did she. Fumi hadn't been around long enough to know Suki's old squad personally, but Fuyu was an old comrade as much as she was Aya's sister, and that (if anywhere) was where her loyalties were.

They covered for each other all the same, no one looking too closely or probing too deeply. Their motivation to find the perpetrators responsible was flimsy at best. They were after all, first and foremost, a team, and with it came all the privileges of loyalty and adamant silence.

"How can you say that?" Emi bawled, completely overwrought with guilt. "I know that she was an awful person, but nobody deserves… _that_!"

Aya looked unmoved, but still without her usual derision. She picked up a roasted tomato with her chopsticks and inspected it with pretended nonchalance before she chomped into it.

"Doesn't matter, she's gone now." She said, wiping away the juices that ran down her chin, sucking away the seeds from the tomato's red flesh in a way that made Fumi feel squeamish.

"Wait a minute." Yui spoke cautiously, making it abundantly clear that she was starting to get creeped out. "Why are we all talking about Princess Azula like she's dead?"

It was a good question and they all took a moment to think about it. Emi's crying had thankfully faded into quiet sniffling, but only because the girl had gone back to gunning down her cider like there was no tomorrow. Suzu, confident that this conversation had nothing to do with her, starting tucking into a plate of grilled pike-squid with gusto.

"Wishful thinking?" Aya said pensively.

"How come I can't have beer?" Emi complained, still hiccupping and flushed in the face. "You guys always get beer, and I only get cider. Really not fair, you know?"

"What do you think your grandmother would do to us if she found out we gave you beer? Besides, I think you've had enough cider." Yui moved the pitcher away from the young girl's reach, ignoring Emi's protests and shoving her flailing limbs away.

The way Emi's cheeks puffed out made it that much harder to take her seriously. "I'm not that much younger than you guys. My birthday's coming up in a few months I'll have you know, I'm going to be-"

The door to the tavern slid open, and Fumi lost the rest of what Emi was trying to say. It wasn't difficult to spot the newcomer ducking her head beneath the curtained partition and scanning the restaurant searchingly. Despite the frenetic energy and the number of people milling around the bar, Miyo's eyes settled on their table with an eerie precision.

Inwardly, Fumi groaned. They should have known better than to try to get away with their traditional night off drinking. It was hard to stave off the sense of dread as their captain began to shove her way as politely as possible towards them.

"Oh crap, look busy!" Suzu yelped instinctively.

Yui looked at her like she was some sort of imbecile. "In a pub? Are you kidding?"

Even so, Fumi instinctively did her best to look down and hide her gaze. Beside her, Aya was suddenly inexplicably interested in the grill marks on their food. Emi, pitifully, tried her hardest to hide behind her pint glass.

Miyo had always been an overly serious girl. Fumi supposed that it had something to do with growing up the youngest in a family with a legacy of churning out top quality officers and squad leaders. Her relative inexperience in landing such a high position job didn't lend her any favors as well. Getting a dress down from Miyo amounted to the same effect as receiving a lecture from a younger sibling, it came off haughty and not without a measure of annoyance. Dealing with Miyo came with-as it always did-a remembrance and yearning for those who had held this post before her.

"Hey, Miyo…" Emi tittered nervously, but then coughed after a well placed kick under the table from Aya. "Want a pike-squid?" She nudged a plate of food placatingly towards the captain.

Yui buried her face in her hand.

"Really, guys?" Miyo stood at the head of the table, pinching the bridge of her nose with her eyes closed like she was trying to ward off a powerful headache. " _Really_?"

"Well there's no point sulking about it." Suzu offered, any appeasing effect that her words might have had disappeared when she rolled her eyes.

"What could you be possibly celebrating?" Miyo sputtered.

They stared back with blank expressions. The obvious hung around them, and as soon as the question left her lips, she instantly regretted it.

"This is ridiculous." She muttered.

Aya was the first to get up, shoving aside her beer and grabbing her jacket from the wall. Pulling it around her, she gave Miyo a winsome (if slightly condescending) smile. "You're right, Miyo, none of us should be here. In fact, I was just on my way out." Ignoring her captain's disbelief, she turned to Emi with a sneer. "It was getting too depressing in here anyways."

As soon as she slipped out the door, it became a mad scramble to see which sucker would be the last one left to face Miyo's wrath and whatever task she had come to deliver. They weren't stupid. Miyo never showed up to their weekly gatherings without a reason, and certainly not at the tail end of the catastrophe that had been the assault on the Fire Nation princess.

"I paid last time, I'm not paying." Suzu declared, vanishing into a nearby crowd.

"I'll get it, it's my turn anyways." Yui said to no one in particular before clambering over the benches to find the barkeeper, undoubtedly to not return.

"I uh," Fumi made a vague gesture, struggling to hold her wits together when Miyo fixed her with a harsh look. The new captain had a tendency to be overzealous and presumptuous but it didn't detract from how intimidating she was. "Need to go back to headquarters to finish some paperwork." It worked because Miyo's silence was long enough for her to duck away into the crowd.

There was only one remaining, one who looked around with blinking and dazed eyes, her mind already addled with alcohol and uncomprehending of why her friends has left so quickly. Fumi had absolutely no pity.

"Oh no you don't!" She heard Miyo bark when presumably the poor girl had tried to edge away. "Emi, sit down."

Even without looking back, Fumi could see the sullen expression on Emi's face. "Aw, man…"

The rest of their conversation faded away with the raucous din of the tavern when Fumi closed the door. It wouldn't hurt to make good on her words and go over the week's book-keeping for the squad again. Although it was well into the night by now, it lessened her guilt somewhat to know that she wouldn't be lying to Miyo either. She started off in the direction of the office, comforted in knowing that whatever work that would occupy the remainder of her evening would surely be a task far less harrowing than what was in store for Emi.

* * *

It had taken almost the entire day, but by mid-noon she had finally worked up the courage.

Cradling the medicinal jar in one arm, and the casserole dish in the other, she looked hesitantly down the road and tried once again to push down the rising sense of unease. In her head, she was going over the same words she had rehearsed for countless times in front of her mirror back home. She would only have one chance at this, and as her grandmother had always told her, it was always important to take responsibility for one's mistakes.

Of course, it didn't stop her from being scared out of her mind.

 _Be brave._ She told herself, rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath, starting down the path to the beach.  _Like Suki._

Everyone knew where Ty Lee lived. Remote as it was, Ty Lee's place of residency was common knowledge amongst the villagers.

When the path ended, she followed the shore to where the mountain streams met the ocean, meandering between sand dunes and towards the treeline of thick pines. Even from far off, she could spot the solitary house sitting aside the snaking river and red reeds. It's lone thatched roof peaked out from the branches of sycamore and bristling evergreen. Not for the first time, Emi found herself wondering why out of all the places on Kyoshi Island, Ty Lee would choose this place-so far from the convenience and bustling vivacity of the villages- to live.

Passing the recently-planted vegetable garden, and the empty laundry lines, she arrived at the doorstep and poising her hand to knock before losing her nerve at the last moment. She wavered, her knuckles hovering over the door, trying to fight off the absurd rise of nervousness that roiled her stomach. Apologies were one thing, but it was the initial pleasantries that she had neglected to think about.

She tried to think of a suitable greeting, but it was all sounding so stupid in her head.

"Hey Ty Lee, sorry about your friend Princess Azula." She muttered under her breath, wincing. "No, that sounds stupid. Okay-hello, Ty Lee. How was your day? I'm good, thanks, even though Princess Azula probably isn't. I made you guys a casserole…because that's totally not a weird thing to give or anything." She shuddered and looked at the dish in her hands-which in the beginning had seemed like such a considerate gift-with newfound regret. "Ugh, this is so lame."

She had to get her act together. If her teammates could see her now they would all be laughing at her.

She took a deep breath to brace herself, raising her hand again to knock when the door slid open with a loud slam.

It took extra effort to not scream.

"I thought I heard creepy whispering."

Emi's mind was completely frozen, and all the rehearsals of lines and apologies were mysteriously gone. Staring into an unblinking and steely gaze, she was reminded of how she first felt when she met the princess. It was disheartening to know that the sense of absolute awe mingled with terror was not something that just abated with time.

"Oh no, I'm not creepy! Uhm, I'm just…" She fumbled with the casserole and medicine jar, not knowing which to present first. "This is uh…gosh, uh, hold on…"

Everyone had seen the physician report if they hadn't been there at the infirmary, but Emi was finding that stories and second-hand accounts were paltry comparisons to harsh reality.

Cuts crisscrossed the princess' face, a dark red line bisected an eyebrow and crept down to a bruised eye, a shallower gash ran across the bridge of her nose and looked barely on the cusp of healing. A bandage covered the stitches that held her left cheek together above the dark and angry bruise along her jaw, making each word come from a tight-lipped grimace. Strips of gauze and linen peaked out from under her clothes and hairline.

She moved stiffly, one arm braced around her ribs as the other hung in its sling. Even standing still, the princess favored her weight to one leg. The fact that the princess was standing-albeit leaning heavily against the doorway- just days after her injuries, was nothing short of extraordinary. Her very survival had been something of a miracle.

Emi was starting to believe that the girl was superhuman.

"What do you want?" Azula snapped impatiently. Her words lacked the bite it first had, her breath coming wispy and shallow. Even still, it made Emi blank again.

"Uuuh…"

"Emi?" A voice called from inside the house. "Is that you?"

Over Azula's shoulder, Ty Lee appeared in the entryway, already dressed in her uniform and looking at her expectantly. The familiar smile on her face was weary, but bright all the same, bereft of the disappointment and anger that Emi had been anticipating. There was nothing to give weight to Miyo's words of caution, and the warmth of Ty Lee's greeting was both relieving and riddled her with guilt.

"Hey, Ty Lee!" Emi tried hard to not breathe an audible sigh of relief. "Oh it's so good to see you again."

Ty Lee laughed, taking Emi's words for a different meaning. "Yeah, you too! Thanks for coming to look after Azula." She said, the gratefulness in her voice showing through lines of fatigue and sleeplessness. Its plain tenderness made Emi blush and shuffle her feet in fluster. Ty Lee only smiled wider in amusement, but the princess was nonplussed.

"I'm going to be babysat by a child." The glower on Azula's face turned into a brief grimace of pain as she braced herself to walk back into the house. For a short moment it looked like Ty Lee wanted to reach for her, but the girl pulled back at the last moment, hiding the gesture by crossing her arms and picking at her sleeves.

"It'll be good to have someone in the house with you. You're still really hurt." Ty Lee said, cloaking the uncertainty of her voice with fact and reason as she followed the princess into the house. After a small start, Emi trailed after them, scrambling to kick off her boots in the entryway while clutching the fast-cooling porcelain tray against her torso.

"Yes, I wonder whose fault that is." The princess had seated herself as casually (and gently) as her injuries allowed next to the hearth. Even with daylight and winter yet on its way, embers smoldered in the square flame pit, smoking and casting dancing light that illuminated every swollen scrape on Azula's face, every fleck of blood that had crusted on her wounds.

It would be now or never.

"A-Actually I also came to apologize." Emi said, going on despite the shrewd eyes piercing, dissecting her at each action, each turn of her words. "To both of you." She said, unable to look at Ty Lee for longer than a moment.

"Is that what  _that_  is?" Azula looked at the casserole dish like she couldn't decide if she was more appalled or disgusted.

"Well, no, this is more like a…"  _Housewarming_ , she meant to say, but the disdain Azula had for the barren comforts of Ty Lee's house was plain as day and stopped her cold.

"I was the one who was late to the shift." She blurted out, wincing at the admission. "Fumi spent the whole time looking for me so… it was my fault no one was there to protect you."

Her cheeks burned with shame at the recollection. Her own shift partner nowhere to be found, she had encountered Yui waiting for her in the office with reprimands already on her tongue. She had been frantic in her apologies at first, then confused when Yui mentioned Aya waiting for them when Emi had not minutes ago spotted the girl heading home.

In not a few minutes' time, both of them were rushing up the village roads with their lanterns. With Fumi and Aya absent, minutes had turned into hours, scanning the darkness futilely with blind eyes. At last Yui had been the one to find Azula lashed her to the tethering pole with her own chains, a limp and bloody doll hung across the wooden pillar like a gruesome scarecrow. It had taken both of them to loose the chains and take her down, and by then Emi had been so shaken that Yui had to all but scream at her to run to the village to find a doctor. She had sprinted the whole way in the dark, half-tripping over herself, covered in the princess' blood.

Ty Lee hadn't been heard from for days after that. Someone had heard her fighting with Miyo in the clinic the morning after, and she didn't show up for anything besides training anymore. It had paralyzed Emi to know that this was the first time anyone had talked with Ty Lee at length. She couldn't say to know what Ty Lee was thinking now.

"I'm sorry…although, I know it doesn't mean anything."

For a moment brief moment, her apology hung in the air. Azula looked at her thoughtfully, considering Emi with hard, bitter decisiveness.

"The fact that all Kyoshi Warriors are such spectacular imbeciles, is that just a sad coincidence or something you have to teach?"

Ty Lee stepped forward immediately, taking the younger Kyoshi Warrior by the shoulders gently so that Emi looked up at her and didn't have time to burst into tears. "Thanks, Emi." The older girl said, taking the ceramic dish into her hands gratefully. "It means a lot that you said that."

Her words were honest but Emi could see the tinges of disappointment and surprise that were etched in Ty Lee's eyes. Her smile had grown wan now, and behind it was a dismay that told Emi out of all the members of the squad, she had been the one had Ty Lee least expected to fail.

She wouldn't say it out loud or confess it to anyone she knew, but Ty Lee had always been her favorite. The age gap between them had been immaterial to their friendship when all the others still treated her as the eternal younger sibling. In a village where she had grown chasing the heels of the people she now worked and drilled shoulder to shoulder with, Ty Lee's indifference to her immaturity had been a godsend.

She didn't have to assess the stifling nature of the atmosphere between the princess and Ty Lee to know what this was.

 _They're best friends._   _Of course, she's mad at me._ She thought, not missing the worried glance Ty Lee stole at Azula when the princess winced and pressed a hand to her brow.

"I have something for that." Emi said quickly, clutching the medicine jar that Miyo had specifically told her to bring. "The healer said it's supposed to be good for the pain and your stitches won't even scar…" She popped open the cap and started to approach the princess when she was rooted mid-stride by a withering glare. "Oh. Right. Uh, maybe…" She fumbled unsurely. There was no way with her injuries that Azula could put it on herself.

"Here." Ty Lee said gently, taking the jar from her helpless grasp, dipping her fingers into the thick salve. It smelled strongly of cloves and camphor oil and made Emi's nose sting at the vapors.

Kneeling at Azula's side, the older girl peered at the princess' wounds, unflinching from the same fickle irascibility that had balked Emi before. Her fingers rose hesitantly to the other girl's face, hovering between her broken lip and her split eyebrow, and her voice was low when she murmured, "Close your eyes." There was a tenderness-a careful warmth to her actions that underlined her delicate movements as she started to brush the salve gently into the cuts.

In the flash of an eye, a hand darted up and seized Ty Lee around the wrist. It happened so fast that at first Emi thought that Azula had struck her, but instead the princess pushed Ty Lee firmly away, flaring dangerously, "Don't you have work to go to?"

It always impressed Emi how Ty Lee never missed a step, never daunted, and ever buoyant.

"Yeah." Ty Lee replied, placing a hand to where Azula had grabbed her. She rose to her feet in the same fluid motion that left the medicine jar carefully at the princess' side. Retrieving her workbag from where it laid on the floor, she turned to Emi with a steadfast smile. "I'll be finished in the evening," she said with a comforting squeeze on the younger girl's elbow. She looked back to where Azula sat trying to rub off the remnants of the ointment. "I'll be back before you even miss me."

"Don't worry, I won't." Azula replied without looking up but the girl was already gone, and the door closed with the faint whisper of sliding wood.

Emi swallowed, trying to get the knot of trepidation from her throat when she thought about the hours to come. When she turned back, Azula was looking at her balefully, staring at her with open repugnance and an enmity that promised none of the same consideration that Ty Lee had afforded her, none of the same kindness.

She tried not to think about all the things that had been said about the princess in the frenetic aftermath of the assault, stories passed onto her through a glazed and vague impression that left specifics and names unmentioned. In its place were careful warnings, words of caution guarding her from the same eagerness that had colored her earlier interactions with Azula. Still, it was hard to not be impressed by the overt tenacity of the princess' uncanny speediness of recovery and fortitude. It was hard to not be a little awed.

"Uh." Emi's hands dove into her backpack, and holding up its contents with mustered courage. "I brought board games!"

Board games, as it turned out, was an old and derelict Pai Sho set. It was so old that the tiles were faded and the finish had long peeled from the wood so that the grid was almost indiscernible. Azula, who had long decided that the afternoon's true entertainment would come from the hapless idiot-child so conveniently delivered to her, found herself quickly routed and at a loss. The young Kyoshi Warrior had worked herself into such a nervous mess that she practically did she job by herself, and it was hard to not be a little let down.

The girl spoke at a non-stop pace, which would have been mildly impressive if not for the thundering headache that was thrumming up between Azula's eyes. In truth, everything hurt. Every blink of her eyes, every minute motion of her body set the sewn gashes and bruises on her skin into raw pain. Each breath was an effort, a deliberate and tortured action that sent her fractured ribcage into a routine and crushing agony. It made talking (never mind standing or walking) unbearable. Even so, her threadbare patience had much more pressing demands.

Emi had just finished regaling her with the long and storied legacy of her family's Pai Sho board and looked poised to launch into another neurotic ramble.

"…and I'm pretty good, though not as good as my mom was. My grandma says that I take after her though. Anyways, I thought we could play together to you know, help you rest-"

"If I'm supposed to rest then why are you still talking?" Her head had already been pounding long before any half-witted imbecile decided to plague her with mindless drivel.

The stunned silence that came from the girl was almost satisfactory enough to momentarily curb the thundering that streamed through Azula's shoulder and ribs.

The fingers of her good hand curled, flicking a tile so that it went skittering across the board and smacked the Kyoshi Warrior in the arm before clattering to the floor. "Pai Sho is a stupid and pointless game for losers and senile old geezers."

"That's not true!" Emi blurted out so suddenly that her voice surprised them both. "It exercises the mind and teaches strategy. People who are masters of Pai Sho are not only masters of themselves, but masters of their environment and others." She fell quiet after that, embarrassed. Azula didn't reply, feeling suitably assured that the girl knew how ridiculous she sounded.

The girl was silent for three merciful seconds as she began to pack up the tiles, before launching into an apologetic spiel. "I'm sorry, this is a terrible idea, huh? Pai Sho can be tiring too, and I wasn't thinking about your concussion. It's not easy playing against harder players."

It was hard to ignore Emi's earnest candor. Her heartfelt concern was genuine and palpable, bereft of any calculated pretenses, and it radiated from her in droves. It came from the guilt inside her, an unaffected quality that separated her from the rest of the other witless women.

"I've changed my mind." Azula said, pulling a pouch of tiles from Emi's hands and dropping it between them irreverently. "I'll play a game with you."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? I mean-"

"Positive." She said, levying her with an even look.

Emi's eyes lit up in response at the princess' apparent change of heart, and she hurried to sort the pieces and line them up neatly to explain their roles. All of the wariness had apparently been temporarily forgotten as she busied herself in her task. "Okay, this is easy, I promise." She smiled, not seeing that Azula's own reflected back at her with a dangerous patience. "I'll go slow so you can see. So this is the white lotus piece, what it does is…"

* * *

Some minutes later, Emi found herself staring at the Pai Sho board in confusion. She alternated between looking up at her opponent and back at the board, trying to puzzle together the quick succession of events that had led to her swift and sound defeat.

"This  _is_  easy." Azula said wickedly.

"Wait no, it's not that easy." Emi said, her hand held in front of her like she could have forestalled what had just happened. "Let's go again."

* * *

During the fourth game, Azula seized the middle ground and captured Emi's vermilion chrysanthemum in a single move. It seemed that with each match it was actually taking Azula a smaller amount of turns to win, and that was bordering the absurd.

Emi laughed good naturedly, scratching her head and giving Azula a nervous smile. "This is some crazy beginner's luck."

At the last word, the round tile that the princess had been rolling on her knuckles paused.

"Yes," She replied dryly. "I'm famous for my luck."

* * *

Later, the novelty had begun to wear off, and Azula had long given up hope that the girl would show any semblance of understanding. She had reverted to making brusque and fanciful strategies, but that didn't seem to remotely hasten Emi's decisions. They had been playing for hours, and Azula had gone back to being bored.

"Will you hurry up?" She barked, startling the other girl.

The hand that had been floating hesitantly over a defensive line of pieces eventually settled on a tile, pushing it into formation with a tentative nudge. Emi peeked unsurely at Azula's face, hoping in vain for a vague notion of clarity, but the princess remained enigmatic as always.

Azula replied by dropping her hand from her chin, placing the final tile on the board with an audible clap as Emi stared.

"I'm not sure you're even trying." Azula sighed, sweeping the pieces together and collecting them into neat little towers so that Emi could see exactly how many had been captured.

"You're cheating!" Emi cried hysterically, bordering on tears.

"I wish. That would suggest effort."

"You  _lied_!"

"You assumed." Azula replied sharply, her fingers shuffling the towers of chips together with telltale ease. "Not to mention you're terrible to begin with."

"But-But this doesn't make any sense! I've played the entire squad so many times- I  _never_  lose!" Emi said mournfully, pushing aside her own collection of tiles (small and meager next to Azula's.) After such a long succession of quick defeats, she finally didn't feel like playing anymore.

"Isn't it obvious? They've been letting you win." Azula said disdainfully. The charade had done unexpectedly little to alleviate her mood. The entertainment had disappeared, weathered by Emi's continued disbelief and relentless attempts to defeat her, as well as the monstrous pace at which her wounds were flaring back into life in the absence of any medicine. It left her in a dangerous mood.

"You're the youngest and have no experience to speak of, so of course no one respects you. Look at how  _capable_  you are." She finished flippantly.

Sitting for so long had made her body stiff. Pushing aside the sitting cushions, she eased herself as gently as she could onto the tatami floor, grimacing as the muscles in her back relaxed and feeling restored itself painfully down her spine.

"I'll get better." Emi promised soberly, not indicating if she was talking about Pai Sho.

"I doubt it." Azula replied easily, not caring.

It felt like forever since it had been quiet long enough for her to think straight. Lying supine on the floor, she savored it, trying to think about something other than the crippling pain in her sides and chest, about something besides the people who had put her here and whose whims she now lived by.

When she had been told that she was moving in with Ty Lee, Azula had anticipated an improvement from the guardhouse, albeit not much when she initially remembered the other houses around Kyoshi Island. Ty Lee's house was an even smaller improvement still. Even from the outside, the building was small and old. The house mainly comprised of a single room, its only source of heat the square hearth in the center of the raised woven straw mat floor. There were barely any decorations, any personal touches that showed that Ty Lee had spent significant amount of time here. It was moving from one prison to the other, trading wardens and guards.

In the end, it was all the same.

Her one functional hand slipped gingerly beneath the folds of her shirt, feeling for the swathes of bandages that wrapped around her torso, concealing bruises and binding bones together. Her fingers probed along the line of stitches running down her abdomen, her breath hitching painfully as she remembered the faces that came so clearly to her through the foggy slough of her injuries, an imprinted and ravenous fever dream that howled for retribution.

"Be patient." The words in her head could have been her own or someone else's, but they came from far away with the weight of a hundred hours pressed to maps and siege tables. It came from study and experience, things won and lost. "Wait, and be patient."


	16. Moksha

She dreamt of her mother.

They were sitting on a riverbank, resting under giant branches of a loquat tree, balancing a Pai Sho board between them. The sides were balanced at the moment but she wasn't worried. She would be winning again soon; she always managed to in the end.

Her mother had long slender fingers that moved elegantly when she pushed a piece into place. Next to them, her own bony knuckles and bandages looked grotesque and she didn't think all the blood was helping. She couldn't manage to stop bleeding. She was running out of gauze and she wasn't sure where she could get more this far into the countryside.

Overhead, a comet screamed across the sky, bathing everything in a dark sickening red.

"You should have told me to begin with." Ursa said with a surreptitious smile. "A mother always knows."

"I don't like to think about it." Azula said darkly, wondering when her father was going to come home and how badly he would punish her. She didn't scar as well as Zuko did, but she didn't scream as much either, which was a good trade when she thought about it.

"Don't worry about your dad." Her mother said reassuringly. "He'll come around."

Azula didn't think so, but not wanting to talk about it anymore, she nodded.

"I'm so proud of you, Azula." Ursa said fondly, reaching to brush away the girl's bangs from her face before the blood caked it to her skin. "I love you very much."

"I love you too, mom." She replied, happy that the war was over, glad that she and Ursa had decided to make up, and wondering what had taken them so long. It felt silly when she thought about it, but she couldn't bear the embarrassment whenever her mother asked her about her feelings like she was doing now. She hoped Ursa wouldn't press.

"Are you getting along with the other children?"

"They don't like me." Azula said, trying to remember if her mother's tactics had always been this elusive. "It's because I'm better than them."

"Who?" Ursa prompted gently.

"Everyone."

The older woman smiled. "You're perfect the way you are. But sometimes we have to humble ourselves in order for people to truly get to know us." She went on patiently, holding up the verdant peony that she had captured, but Azula didn't mind. She had known before anyone that small sacrifices had to be made for the bigger things.

But by now the board had begun to contort and shift and it was hard to figure out where everything was. She scowled at it, hoping the tiles would settle. She couldn't win if the pieces kept changing.

"I don't know if I can do this." She said after awhile.

"Nonsense. You can do anything you set your mind to." Her mother told her seriously, but she wasn't understanding her, and the game stopped making sense a long time ago.

"They're all expecting me to be something I'm not." She wiped fruitlessly at the red rivulets cutting down her face-springing from her broken eyebrow and her swollen eye-angry because she couldn't find the point in this anymore. Pai Sho was a stupid game, but she had no direction, and her father wasn't here.

Her mother had a habit of speaking in riddles sometimes. "You can be whatever you want to be, the important thing is to never forget who you are."

_But, I've only ever wanted to be Fire Lord._

Somewhere, her brother was playing in the river, heaving huge stones over his head and launching them into the current. He was alternating between looking at the cresting splashes, and glaring back at them to where they sat. It felt strange when she saw him standing by himself, like they both knew that this wasn't how things played out.

"Pai Sho's dumb!" He said, all of a sudden at their side, his hand upending the board and scattering the pieces into the grass. "Pai Sho's dumb and only losers play it." He told her spitefully-the flimsy piece of wood already on its way to the bottom of the river- looking at her and hoping for her to lose her temper.

"Zuko, why would you do something like that?" Their mother frowned, patient and always trying to understand.

"Why not? Azula fails at everything anyways."

Before she could say anything to prove him wrong, she looked back at the Pai Sho board that had reassembled itself while she had been looking away, and wondered if she had been losing all along.

"The game is won in the opening." Ursa supplemented, telling her things that she already knew.

"You can't even beat me at firebending." Zuko gloated, his ire turning into a smile.

"Yes, I can." She replied plaintively, convinced, knowing with every fiber in her body that it was true. Inside her was power humming through blood and muscle that came to life at her fingers, as effortless and easy as breath. "I can."

"Prove it."

Her movements slowed, thick like moving through water and fast-freezing ice, entrapped in crackling frost that climbed up her skin in ravenous webs. Invisible hands seized her at the wrists, and she looked down in surprise at the thick irons that materialized swiftly at her limbs, sapping her of strength as the earth beneath her feet opened up like a hungering maw. She opened her mouth to scream, her nose and throat full of the metallic tang of blood still weeping from her wounds. She vomited dirt and blood, blooming into droves of fire blossoms.

"I'm sorry, my love." Ursa told her, her eyes were full of sadness before they rotted away, leaving empty sockets staring back. Her skin and hair sloughed off her bones in bloody congealed masses of fetid brown and red flesh, falling between the flowers and pooling at Azula's knees. Underneath, Ursa's skeleton was bleached white and old, her teeth glittering in a grim and immortal smile. She had no lips with which to speak, but her words came to Azula anyway, as if she had known them all along.

Above them, the comet was trailing out. In the distance, lightning flickered across the clouds.

"You've forgotten something very important, haven't you?"

* * *

It was an endless farce, a never-ending joke that always seemed to come to the same punch line.

She had long resigned herself to the never-ending fate of waking up in hospitals and rooms that weren't hers. In the beginning she had thought Zuko had drugged her again, and the half-formed idea of actually murdering him this time was just coalescing when she remembered that she wasn't in the Fire Nation anymore.

"Welcome back, Princess Azula."

The healer standing over her looked back through thick spectacles and a narrow gaze that was all at once both relieved and irritated by the girl's evident revival.

"Miyo will be happy to know that you're awake now." He went on, his voice clipped and cold as he set about pulling wire-thin needles from along Azula's scalp and dropping them into a nearby metal basin. The pinching sensation as they left her skin had been what had woken her up.

She could hardly move for the pain in her leg and abdomen. A small testing movement of her left shoulder simultaneously confirmed her suspicions and elicited a grimace of pain.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." The bespectacled man said with a stern look. "That was a nasty dislocation. You're fortunate that you stayed unconscious when we set it."

"You could have warned me." Azula replied, her voice pained and hoarse for the bruising at her throat.

Her memories came with the full force of her injuries. It came in flashing glimpses of color and sound, jeering voices and a dispassionate face looking on. With every pulse reverberating down her arm, it fueled her shame, the knowledge that for all her talent and training amongst the Fire Nation elite that she had been defeated by common, rabid animals. Her anger roiled, hotter than the humiliation any Kyoshi Warriors could have subjugated her with.

She would have her vengeance. She would have it if it meant destroying every last one of them.

"Yes, I believe I just did." He replied dryly, pinching small bunches of mugwort between his fingers and setting them in points along Azula's arms.

He spent entire minutes with his fingertips probing awkwardly under her metal cuff for the pulse at her wrist, asking meaningless questions like how well she slept (not very) and how long her dizzy spells were (very, but she didn't care to ask how he knew.) He lit the mugwort with a taper drawn from a nearby candle,

"You have a lot of injuries, Princess Azula-" He began, turning back to his desk to find his brush and inkstone.

"Oh, really?" The smoke from the smoldering herbs made Azula nauseous and did little to help her dour mood.

He levied her with an even look, going back to begin rubbing the inkstick into the stone when it was clear that the princess' contempt couldn't be alleviated.

"You have a severe concussion, and your ribs are fractured. It will take a while to heal and in the meantime I suggest you rest that shoulder as well. You also have a number of sutures that I suggest you do your best to not aggravate." He went on, alternating between making careful strokes in his writing pad and looking back to where Azula lay. "I don't need to stress furthermore how extensive your injuries are. You were fortunate that Emi and Yui found you so quickly or it could have been much worse. You're a very lucky girl."

He said it in a way that implied kindness, but her wounds made her think of a different meaning.

Her head was still crawling from her addled sleep, swimming with pictures of Ursa smiling under a springing tree, and Zuko throwing pebbles into a river. In her dreams, her memories came back all wrong and she struggled to put it out of her mind. Her mother was dead, and she had promised herself forever ago to not look back.

Ursa had taught her wisdom with one way, and Ozai had always taught his with another.

"My father used to say it was good I was born lucky." She said to the ceiling quietly, not sure where the errant memory had come from.

She looked back down at the tiny mounds of medicine that dotted her arms, remembering the discipline that would come with those words, after failures and losses, stinging more than any blow, any cruel lash of fire that was hurled at her in attempts to correct her, to remedy her weaknesses. Her brother loved to complain to anyone who would listen about the grievances their father had done him, but Azula had always known it for what it was. The greatest warriors had to be forged, and the wounds she bore now were a paltry comparison to the labors of his teachings.

Her fingers curled, her index and middle finger extending out in quiet solemnity, the movement shaking ash from the remaining plumes of mugwort on her skin.

"This is nothing." She said quietly, all of a sudden pitying Aya for not knowing the price of those who grew up under the throne, and for the end that would befall her (coming together so well and cleanly in Azula's mind.)

"Do you remember anything that happened last night?"

The question surprised her, and Azula silently questioned how far the Kyoshi islanders were willing to take this ruse. She wondered humorlessly if this was where Ty Lee had perfected her art of false concern and if it was as endless as the interweaving webs of empty loyalties that the Kyoshi Warriors were so apparently willing to kill for.

"No." She said after an appropriate amount of time.

"Don't worry if it takes a while. Most people are only able to get bits and pieces at first-"

"I don't know, doctor, it might be all the severe head trauma, but I can't seem to remember a thing." She said coldly with the full intention that she wouldn't have to speak about this again. For his part, the healer didn't reply, content with cleaning the ashes from her and changing the dressings on her torso with dabs of alcohol and fresh gauze.

Even through the paper curtain, Azula could tell that it was already morning by the time he had finished. For all the seasoned pace of his actions, he spent a greater amount of time writing in the thick folder at Azula's bedside. A passing look at its contents counted a rough anatomy chart amongst them, sparsely outlined and yet containing sizably more in footnotes and accompanying diagrams. Detailed cross-sections of points along the human spine and limbs were also drawn to great effort. Azula noticed that the whole time until then, the doctor had been studying her more than assessing her injuries.

"It would be much easier to treat you if I knew what I was working with." He explained with a tip of his brush to her manacles. "Your previous physicians have been… ambiguous, to say the least." He said in a way that implied aggravation at forestalled attempts at inquiry.

"I wouldn't know about that." When she thought about Wuhan, she thought about Ty Lee more than the machinations that had kept her there. She had never cared about its particulars, the exact science behind what kept her from fire bending, only knowing that it did. If she was to become-as they had all planned-a cautionary tale, a guinea pig, in this new world the Avatar had built with her brother for the rest of the Fire Nation to see, she would rather pitch herself from the nearest cliff.

"A regular chi-block requires someone else exerting their own chi. I've never seen it done with stagnant objects, and in such a way that doesn't hinder daily movement and health. It blocks bending by restricting excess chi. It's quite…" He paused, trying to find a word. "Extraordinary."

She opened her mouth with a savage retort, exhausted far before he had started his moronic blathering, when the sound of a door slamming shut in the distant corridors of the clinic stopped them both.

"Excuse me-" The doctor started, rising out of his chair with his eyes focused towards the adjoining room. The sound of voices erupted from beyond the walls all at once, their words indistinct and muffled. When it didn't look to subside, he went to the door. Azula knew Ty Lee's voice instinctively. She had learned all the contours of its tilts and melodies, reading its sound as easily as a book.

They had done this before. The place was different, their circumstances had changed, but their dance was the same, yet Azula was unable to summon the same irascible contempt that she had before. She hated Ty Lee's overdrawn concern and shamelessness like she hated the girl's inscrutable need to belong. The closer things were to Ty Lee, the more disconnected everything became, and it was getting more difficult to tell what was right (how things were supposed to be.)

She had imagined herself being glad for the other girl's melancholy, relishing the cruel irony in having been betrayed for an imagined future that had long since dimmed. Within Ty Lee's mediocrity was a justice, a measure of revenge. So Azula didn't understand why she couldn't stomach the thought of it, why every time she saw Ty Lee in that absurd uniform, wasting her talents so willingly amongst people who were so beneath her, it made her sick.

The old man made curt gesture, letting her know that he wouldn't be long. "I have to-"

"Yeah." The princess cut him off harshly. "You go do that."

In the lone silence of the room, she listened to their conversation through the walls, the amorphous blurs of sound rising and falling.

* * *

In the end, her fate had been decided in the same ways that it always had been.

"Ty Lee sure pulled through, huh?"

To Azula's continued annoyance, Emi's bothersome and unrelenting cheeriness hadn't seemed the least bit deterred since the girl's humiliating chain of Pai Sho losses. On the contrary, she seemed to have recovered her same amiable levity, and was trying to make another attempt at conversation-all traces of her previous depression from Azula's insults, gone.

From her position in the floor, Azula tilted her head to the side and saw that the young Kyoshi Warrior had been following her gaze through the window out to the rolling black waves on the sea. Pai Sho had occupied them for hours, but by now the afternoon light had washed away, and the whole length of the beach was flushed in fading shades of blue and gray.

Emi had lit a fire in the hearth, fanning the sparks into glowing life so that the room grew with leaping shadows. She talked as she worked, helping herself to the cabinets in search of tea tins and dishware.

"Yui said that she totally went at it with Miyo at the clinic. It was really scary." Emi frowned briefly at the thought, filling the kettle with water and placing it to boil. "But hey, now you don't have to live in that guardhouse anymore. Miyo can be a huge butt, but Ty Lee's really cool."

Azula couldn't help laughing, even as it collapsed into a tight grimace. "Ty Lee gets called a lot of things, but I wouldn't use that."

Emi smiled hesitantly, cautious as to whether to take Azula's display of mirth as good nature. "What? When we were in training together she was the only one who didn't treat me differently or give me special favors. She taught me a lot."

"She's a traitor." Azula said, wondering why no one besides her was able to see it. "People don't seem to remember that." She mused, half in bewilderment and half in unbridled disdain.

"Oh, yeah, well..." Emi rubbed the back of her neck, trying to think of something diplomatic to say. Miyo had told her to be careful, and she knew enough from Ty Lee to know that princesses could be temperamental even on their best days. Still sore from her handed defeat, she had learned promptly that caution would always be the appropriate response when dealing with Azula. "She'll be a lot happier now that you're here. Don't get me wrong, the whole squad gets along great, and everyone loves Ty Lee but uh..." She tilted her head, trying to put words to what she meant. "She always looks lonely, you know what I mean?"

"No, I don't." Ty Lee hadn't spent the past four years of her life locked in a prison with nothing but her hallucinations and own voice to keep her company. As far as Azula was concerned, Ty Lee had lost any license to sympathy the minute she had decided to trade in her real friends for these pathetic pretenders.

Rolling herself onto her side, the princess struggled to prop herself up against the wall without aggravating her injuries, giving Emi a sharp look when the young girl looked to try helping her.

"Well, I mean like," Emi made a vague gesture with the wooden spoon she had been using to brew the tea, evidently not taking the hint. "We invite her out, but she never comes. Like, she's part of the team, but only during work hours." The girl had an irritating habit of ending her statements with an upwards inflection, making everything she said come out a question.

"You must not know her as well as you think you do. Ty Lee loves parties." Azula said, picking up a nearby hand mirror to inspect the wounds on her face with a delicate finger. It pained her to admit that Emi had been right and as the days wore on the cuts had begun to heal in swollen and pink lines that burned and prickled. Her eyes narrowed at her reflection.

 _Still a thousand times more attractive than Zuko._ She thought wryly as she placed the mirror back.

Emi laughed openly, convinced now that their upheld rapport was the start of something positive. "What? No way. Ty Lee's fun, but I can't see her at a party or anything like that."

She waited for Azula to reply, hoping to hear more about what it was like to be friends with Ty Lee, to have known her when she was young and to be able to see the person that she was today. The war hadn't gone the way anyone had expected, but that didn't change the things that people went through together and Emi's grandmother always told her that in the end, it was through hardships that peoples' true colors and friendships revealed themselves.

Emi had come to-in short time-recognize the different looks that Azula had. At the moment it had fallen to the familiar suggestions of disgust and disdain, but it was hard to take every contemptuous gesture from the princess personally when she was so prone to giving them out arbitrarily. As such, she didn't feel too badly when Azula sneered and said, "You don't know the slightest thing about Ty Lee."

They waited for nightfall, Azula gazing listlessly into the tea cup that Emi had poured for her while the young girl replenished the box of kindling for the evening's fire and finished tidying the house in wake of her much-regretted tantrum. She was gathering her scattered Pai Sho pieces in the corners of the room when her eyes returned back to Azula's remaining tiles still resting on the wooden grid.

She had on previous attempts tried to analyze Azula's strategies, and each time as fruitless as the one before it. It embarrassed her to admit that she wasn't as great a player as she had thought herself to be. Her grandmother had told her that there was always something to be learned in failure, and it shamed her to have behaved in a way that affirmed her immaturity.

"You're uh really really good." She said as a way of making peace, picking up a tile from Azula's lead formation. "I think you might even be better than my mom was. She taught me, but..." She smiled hopelessly, making a dismal gesture with the ivory chip. "You make it look so easy. I was wondering who taught you."

She thought about Ursa sitting underneath the loquat tree and the smile on the woman's face every time when she let Zuko capture another piece. "No one. I taught myself." There was a hard tone of conceit, a distinguished note of pride in Azula's flippant reply.

"Oh. I just thought maybe..." Instead of impressed, Emi appeared let down. Seeming to have come to a decision, the girl took a deep breath. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry I acted like a child earlier." She busied herself with methodically plucking the board clean, the pieces disappearing in a cascade of colored ivory flowers in their waiting pouches. Her cheeks were tinged pink and she resolutely refused to make eye contact. "Ty Lee used to go on about how smart you are, and how you could be the best at anything just from watching. I'm just... jealous. And I ended up being rude. I'm sorry."

There was nothing about Emi that Azula even remotely liked. Too much of her reminded Azula of the Avatar's friends, complete with the wide-eyed enthusiasm and the piety. Kyoshi Warriors all looked the same, each an exact twin of the next, and Emi didn't endear herself further to Azula for being such a close likeness to a younger and darker-haired version of Suki. Azula hated this island like she hated its people, everyone who remained so determined that she never forget her sins. No matter where she went, Azula couldn't escape the feeling that something was following her.

"Does anyone actually fall for that sad puppy act?"

"What?" Emi blinked, looking up.

"Listen, you little brat." Azula pushed herself, leaning over to snatch the tiles back, in short time sorting the pile into halves again. "Your basics are awful, you have no strategy to speak of, I don't know if you're thinking half the time you're playing."

"O-Okay-"

"I'm talking." She snapped coldly, making Emi swallow nervously.

"You lead with your middle every time." Azula demonstrated by pushing the chips into a perfect reformation of their last game. "Anyone with a brain will outflank you and crumple your line. It won't matter how much support you throw behind it, you'll spend the whole game playing catch up on an opponent who's already beaten you." She moved the turns in quick succession, recounting their moves exactly with flawless memory. "The game is won in the opening."

Emi's brain struggled to keep up with the flurry of movements, trying to memorize what Azula was saying and at the same time come to the slow realization of what was happening, that in her own unique and terrifying way, Azula was trying to teach her.

For a moment the princess' words glazed over in her ears. The crippling apprehension that had overwhelmed Emi when she was first came to Ty Lee's house already becoming a distant memory. Everything that Miyo had cautioned her with started to fade at a dangerous rate as Emi began to reconcile the girl in front of her with the stories that Ty Lee had told her. Her initial assignment into the Kyoshi Warriors had started with timidness and fear, but now it felt like even if only for a small time, Emi could relax.

Azula glared heatedly. "Stop smiling."

* * *

Ty Lee closed the door behind her, the pharmacist's bell chiming her departure as she emerged into the empty road and pulled the collar of her coat higher around her neck. In the village, the lights in the buildings had started to wink out one by one, the ocean fog had turning the street lanterns into fireflies flickering in the night mist.

Her students had kept her at the training hall longer than she had anticipated, and by the time she had finished her errands, she was dreading thought of the state that Emi would be in. The kind of conversations she had imagined between Azula and hapless young girl made Ty Lee walk a little bit faster, the pack of ice she had picked up from the butcher's bouncing at her elbow, the bag of medicinal herbs swinging in one hand. In the other was the letter she had retrieved from her office, delivered so discretely and modestly, if not for the officious red and gold emblem of the Fire Nation royal crest on the envelope's seal.

She had read it in haste coming out of the training hall, a part of her already knowing what it would say. When she was done, she read it again, and then another time, all the while imagining Mai sitting at her vanity in the palace, painting her concern through the elegance of neat, calligraphic script. They had parted on cold terms, the memory of which saddened her every time her mind touched the subject. Ty Lee couldn't name all the things that she missed. She wondered why, at the age of eighteen, she already felt so much older.

_I remember when it was just us against the world._

She wondered what had happened to those three girls, and if things could get complicated so fast, if they also had the same chance of coming back together.

Somewhere on the other side of the ocean, Mai was curling up to sleep, warm in the bed she shared with Zuko. There was more than a sea separating them now, and try as she might, Ty Lee couldn't think of a response to Mai's letter besides  _I'm okay, we're okay. Azula's okay._

The sight of her house sitting in the distance with the light shining through its windows made her feel odd. She walked up its path, around the garden that she had planted, and the bare laundry lines. When she came up to the doorway, she could see the corners of the living through the broken paper panes and catch glimpses of an errant moment in a conversation. The sound of their voices made her stop with her hand on the door frame.

"You're doing it again." Azula said sharply over the sound of clacking wood. "Try not to embarrass yourself this time."

"Right, sorry."

"The winner in Pai Sho is the one who can think the furthest ahead. Like in firebending. Do it again."

"But I don't know anything about firebending." Emi said hopelessly, and Ty Lee could practically envision the way the younger girl turned pale.

"Hey guys, I'm back!" Ty Lee chose that moment to slide the door open, slipping through the doorway to see both girls bent studiously over an aging Pai Sho board. At her entrance, Emi looked up with a wide smile. Azula, for her part, didn't stray her eyes from the game, although neither did she seem particularly intrigued with it.

"Hey, you're back!" Emi echoed cheerily, standing up and looking to help Ty Lee with the bags in her arms.

"Leaving the table in the middle of a game is a sign of weakness." Azula said, not looking up.

"Oh." The girl faltered. "Well I don't think-" She stopped, cut off with a prompt movement of the princess' hand that removed her remaining tiles from the board. She made a pitiful sound.

Ty Lee gave what she hoped was a cheering smile. Emi's love for Pai Sho was well known, but no one on the island ever had the heart to tell the girl how terrible she really was at it.

"Azula's been teaching you." She commented, looking at the board and the lukewarm cups of tea, not feeling the smile on her face. "That's great, you're gonna learn like, so fast-"

"You're going to be making dinner sometime soon, I hope." Azula drained the last of the teapot and held it aloft to indicate its emptiness.

Ty Lee took it automatically, balancing it perfectly with the loads in her arms as she carried the whole set to the kitchen. "Yeah, no problem, Azula." She set about putting the groceries into the cupboards, bundling the ice into a hand towel, and setting the herbs to boil, missing the look of bewildered dismay that Emi gave between her and Azula. "Will you be staying for dinner, Emi?" She returned with the iced towel, handing it as casually as she could to the still-seated princess who took it and began dabbing at her face without a word.

"Oh no, thanks." Emi shook her head. "My grandma and aunt are waiting for me so..."

"Maybe next time." Ty Lee said hopefully, the easiness with which Emi behaved around Azula as she picked her things up from around the room didn't go unnoticed. It made Ty Lee feel optimistic again, a window that allowed her to breathe for the first time since she retrieved Azula from the infirmary. She looked gratefully at Emi, wondering why she couldn't enjoy it.

"Sure." Emi smiled widely, peeking around the taller girl. "Bye Azula!"

"Yes, goodbye." Azula said absently, sighing and closing her eyes as she carefully pressed the towel to her sutured eyebrow.

They walked out together, hugging themselves against the mist. The fog was heavier here, and Ty Lee reminded Emi to be safe on the walk back to the village. They said goodbye under the eaves of the house, Ty Lee trying to find a way to politely (discretely) say thank you and sorry at the same time. She kept thinking to when she had walked in, the conversation she had overheard, and if it was possible for someone like Azula and someone like Emi to come to even remotely like each other over mere hours.

"It's okay." Emi stood up, taking the lantern. "She's way pricklier than Miyo but she's alright once you get to know her." There was a fraught pause when she thought about how that could have been misinterpreted, taking the look on Ty Lee's face for dismay.

"Well I mean, I thought she was being mean at first, but she just kind of has her own language, right? She has her own way of doing things. It took me a while to realize it but she's actually really nice." She shrugged with a smile, content at this secret that they now shared between them, happy that she knew something that not even Miyo or Yui did.

She waved farewell after promising that she would practice what Azula had taught her at home, leaving Ty Lee standing at the doorstep, stunned and wordless.

The sound of the gate closing reminded Ty Lee that she had yet to get started on chores.

When she came back into the house, she found Azula at the counter, still pressing the bundle of ice to her head and with her back turned. Hanging her coat up, Ty Lee took a deep breath, trying to collect herself enough from her day's exhaustion to get dinner started and draw water from the tanks for the baths.

"So, what do you feel like eating?" Azula hated Earth Kingdom food with the same stubbornness with which she hated everything else having to do with her new home, but Ty Lee remained enthusiastic like she always did, waiting for the derisive remarks that had been routine for so long.

The medicine jar was still sitting from where she had left it, untouched. Azula hadn't said anything, and Ty Lee was halfway to the pantry when she saw the papers laid open on the table, the envelope and its gold seal.

Her heart stopped, wishing so much for a chance to explain, wondering why it had never occurred to her to do so as soon as she had come home. "Azula-"

"I can't say this came as a surprise." She held the up the letter between her thumb and forefinger, dropping it irreverently like it was evidence of a great lie. "Just that you're so honest about it now."

"It's not what you think it is." Ty Lee said, urgent in her need for Azula to understand, to not take this the wrong way like she had so many other things. To not be so stubborn. "They're just worried." Even to her, it sounded weak.

The princess made a sound like she wanted to laugh. "Worried? Zuko's the one who put me here. What did he think would happen?" She made a spiteful gesture with the letter, her lip curled hatefully so that all her words came out in a snarl. "But I guess I have you to thank for helping with that."

Things had all started falling into place. In Azula's eyes, Ty Lee could see the girl she used to be reflected back at her. A long time ago, she had lived one way, and now on Kyoshi Island, she lived another. Somewhere, Mai was writing a second letter, reminding her of all the things she already knew.

"How is Mai doing these days? The guilt from having to wear that crown all day must be killing her." Azula had pulled her sling, flexing her hand and testing the movements of her lame shoulder to see if it could bear the burden of the steel cuff. Although it held well, she still kept it tightly to her torso. "Not killing her like being chained up like an animal for the rest of her life, and getting attacked by a bunch of peasants in the street, but you know what I mean."

"It's my fault." Ty Lee said, taking the letter back regretfully. Her desire to reconcile with Mai had gotten the better of her, and even knowing how Azula would feel, she had entertained the idea of it. She should have known better.

"Of course it is. If it weren't for you, I might have actually been able to defend myself."

"I won't talk to her anymore, I promise." She ignored the glib barb as she moved to the hearth and dropped the paper, watching the flames lick away Mai's words. Azula watched her dispassionately, the sight of the letter curling into ash doing nothing to sway her mood. "I won't do it if it makes you upset." Ty Lee said solemnly. It was the wrong thing to say and she knew it as soon as it came out.

"Is that seriously all it takes? This would have been nice to know a couple years ago, we could have had a heart to heart. I would have told you all  _sorts_ of things that make me upset."

"You told me to pick a side." Ty Lee's hands had balled into fists. They had come so far and yet she was still unable to see what Azula wanted from her, what she had to do to catch a break. "I am."

"It's a little late for that, Ty Lee." Azula retorted with a harsh laugh of disbelief, her temper only incited further by the other girl's ridiculous and convenient claims to newfound loyalty. "So tell me, do you  _ever_ finish anything you start?"

Ty Lee wondered if she looked half as stupid as she felt. If she had spent her whole life as a laughingstock, she hadn't minded it anymore than she had minded the idle gossip that quickly turned foul. She had been so sure that what she was doing had meant something, that she was helping in small ways, and what little comforts she offered to Azula had mattered.

"I'm not going to do it. I'm not going to apologize for what I did on the Boiling Rock." Ty Lee said after a while, speaking more out of fact rather out of any assertion of her own conviction. There were lines running through her that she couldn't cross no matter how many times Azula tested her, bringing her back again and again to see if things would end differently this time. She answered Azula's eyes with the blunt edge of her resolve. If Azula wanted closure, she wouldn't find it here and not in the way that she wanted.

She didn't wait to see Azula's reaction. By the time the door closed shut behind her and her hand slammed open the gate, she had ceased to think about anything at all.

The ocean mist had turned into a thin rain. It fell in cold, light sheens against her face, its droplets clinging to her skin and leadening her clothes. She hadn't realized she had been running until her feet hit the sand, ankle-deep in the frigid surf, collapsing with her hands on her knees. She glared out into the roiling black sea with blurred vision, wiping fruitlessly at the water that ran into her eyes, trying to catch her breath.

Mai's plea with her had never changed, but on this island it had become poison.

_She can't be what you want her to be._

It was only now that she knew what Mai had really been trying to telling her. Her laugh came out flat and bitter, wondering when she would stop being so stupid and why she could never see what everyone else so clearly saw.

_Come home, Ty Lee._

Sometimes, she wished it could only be that easy.

The hand that gripped her around the shoulder and whirled her around pulled her violently from her reverie. Ty Lee realized that Azula had been calling her name all along, having chased her at a pace that her injuries shouldn't have allowed. The younger girl was breathing hard, the rain having soaked through her shirt so that Ty Lee could see the strips of bandages spotted with pink.

"Azula-"

"Don't you dare walk away from me!" The princess was livid, numb to the cold and the blood seeping from her torn stitches. Her hair had fallen around her shoulders in wet tangles, her single useful hand seizing Ty Lee's arm in a terrifying grip, her voice full of ire (shaking and choking.) "I don't owe you! I never asked you to visit me! I never asked you to do anything! What I wanted was for you to leave me alone!"

When Azula shoved her, she barely felt it, pushing the girl's hand away and staring back.

"I didn't mean for everything that happened! I just wanted things to go back to the way they were!"

"Well good job Ty Lee, stabbing me in the back really made that work out!" Azula said with a violent gesture out towards the hailing rain, and the house on the shore. "I could have given you anything you wanted in the world! You didn't have to waste your life on some stupid island, you could have mattered!"

"You think  _I'm_ stupid? You would have rather died than let anyone see how much pain you were in, how much the war was killing you inside! They took away your mom, and you pretend you don't care but I see it in you. I hear you dreaming at night." Ty Lee threw her words like fire and the momentary abatement in Azula's eyes told her that she had struck the heart of it, but they had come so far that they couldn't go back now. The words came out of Ty Lee's chest like a flood, a battle in her that she had stopped fighting. "You would rather hurt everyone around you than let go of your stupid pride!"

An errant wave slammed her in the back, almost sending her toppling into the other girl and drenching seawater through what little remains of dryness still in their clothes. Azula had already been shivering, every inch of her body wound tight like a spring, looking at Ty Lee like she was a complete stranger.

The princess took her by the front of her shirt, pulling Ty Lee up the beach away from the water. Azula's hold, while firm, lacked the same possessed relentlessness it once had. She didn't stop until they were shielded under the line of forested pines, waiting at the base of the footpath leading up to the river and the house.

Pushing the older girl against the trunk of a massive tree, Azula held her there, their faces so close that Ty Lee's cheek tingled with warmth from each hot breath.

"So you wanted to see me suffer?" Azula had lost the bandage on her face so that Ty Lee could see every discolored and swollen bruise, every gash that marred her skin. The princess had never healed with difficulty. In time, the injuries wouldn't even scar, and her beauty would return just as before without a hint that those wounds had even existed. Invisible and perfect. "To see what happened once you took away my dreams like I took away your precious circus?"

"It wouldn't have been the way you wanted." The circus had been a means, not an end, and Ty Lee distantly acknowledged her own shock that Azula had even remembered inflicting that terrifying memory at all. "You would have lived the rest of your life as a puppet; you would have been even more miserable than you are now. It wouldn't have been your dream at all, Azula, it would have been your father's."

Pressed together under the trees, their words came like long-kept secrets. Looking up, Ty Lee could see the curve of Azula's mouth and the softness of her long eyelashes. She thought inexplicably back to Wuhan, remembering the gentle lull of the princess' heartbeat soothing them both back to life.

She didn't know when she had taken Azula's hand, the fingers that had been buried in her shirt front now clasped precariously with her own. She didn't know when she had dared to do that, but to her relief the princess didn't immediately push her away. They stood silently, the sound of the soft rain falling through the canopy of the forest blanketing the space where Ty Lee had expected a furious reply. Yet now, after so long, there was nothing left, and the way that Azula dropped her gaze told her that the princess knew it too.

When Azula pulled away, Ty Lee watched her go. The path to the house was long and vanished into the fog. Standing between her and the road, Azula paused and turned halfway, appearing for a moment like there was something else, something she had forgotten to say. As quick as the moment came, it was gone, and Ty Lee was left waiting, watching as the girl disappeared into rain and mist.


	17. Let Me Back In

The women appeared at the house in the late morning. They had walked the beach paths together, meandering up the curving trails of the thin woods and following the stream to where the small cottage sat among rushes and river reeds. The time it had taken since leaving the village was lengthy, and they had traveled in silence the whole time, each of the junior Kyoshi Warriors more than happy in letting their captain stew in her thoughts.

Miyo had been in a terrible mood lately to no one's fault but their own. They followed her obediently, flanking alongside her when she came to a stop in front of the red door and waited with her patiently when she looked neither to speak nor moved to knock on the door for some minutes. Suzu shifted uneasily, fiddling with the doctor's satchel she carried at her side, deciding for once that it was best to reign in her usual blunt commentary. From behind Miyo's back, Yui gave the young medic a thankful look, and a helpless shrug of her shoulders when Suzu responded by flipping her the bird.

"Make sure you update the guard logs when you get back." Miyo said to the tall girl by her side, oblivious to the antics of her companions, the muscle in her jaw standing out as she spoke. "I don't want any mix ups about shifts this time."

"I'll take care of it, Miyo." Yui replied kindly before Suzu could note out loud how Yui had been a Kyoshi Warrior before anyone else in the squad had even been initiated.

"Do you have everything?" Miyo asked the other girl, like the more prepared she could ensure her comrades, the more ready she herself became.

Suzu held up the bag again, unamused. "I'm checking her stitches. It's not like we're doing on-field surgery." She said irritably, eager to finish her task and be gone. It wasn't even her day to be here, but still they had insisted on dragging her down to Ty Lee's house anyways, all the way out in the middle of nowhere to tend the well-being of a deranged, psychotic princess. "How did Ty Lee say she opened them anyways? She's supposed to be on bed rest."

Miyo wanted to say that she wished she knew. These days, there were lots of things that she wanted to say to the people around her, to those who believed her to be just as ignorant as she made herself out to be.

Miyo also knew what they said about Ty Lee. She knew it more cruelly than her own reputation, about the names that followed the girl everywhere, from the Fire Nation and back. Soldiers loved to gossip, and Ty Lee had become infamous for more than just the unorthodox fight skills she employed in her teaching curriculum. It was through this mire of rumors and childish frivolity that she first knew about Ty Lee, long before their meeting at the Fire Nation capital. In truth, Miyo hadn't cared what the relationship between Ty Lee and Azula had been like, so long as the girl was able do her job, but Ty Lee had proven herself more than just capable. Her kindness and magnanimous charm had been welcome gifts to someone as reserved and withdrawn as Miyo, and the young captain had cherished their growing friendship each passing day they were together, an odd couple standing amongst the universal dark green canvas of painted faces and uniforms. Their partnership had surprised everyone around them, but even being so different, Miyo silently liked to think that they were the same in all the ways that mattered.

It was a quiet illusion, self-gratifying and shameful, but she had let herself believe it anyway. She had selfishly let it sustain her, let it greet her in the morning, let it comfort her through difficult days-hoping tentatively and patiently-and so Miyo had let herself grow blind.

Their quarrel in the hospital clinic had struck her more deeply than she wanted to admit, and remembering Ty Lee's harsh words tore at her every time Miyo's mind wandered back to it (unbidden and endlessly returning again and again.) Of all the people around her, it was towards Ty Lee that Miyo kept all the secrets she had expressedly forbidden herself to say. Leadership had its benefits, but many more drawbacks, and she hadn't found it in her to break it to Ty Lee to say that in the end, her own obligations came before her friendships, that there was more than just one person's concerns weighing on the conditions of the princess' security.

Princess Azula's presence was bringing Kyoshi Island more than just trade. With Kyoshi Island's surplus of goods, the villages would soon be growing richer than ever before, and with wealth came power and leverage with the other Earth Kingdom nations. It had also brought them unsought attention and petitions from around the world, each just as unsavory as the last.

Miyo had always thought that Fire Lord Zuko was placing a tremendous amount of faith into Kyoshi Island by charging them with his sister's care. It wasn't until the fight in the clinic's lobby that Miyo realized it had been placed more into a single person than into any promise of safety, given more from calculation than from blind trust. He had given Azula to Ty Lee, and that much everyone had seen except for her. Miyo had never felt so foolish, had never felt as stupid as the moment she saw the vindication in Ty Lee's eyes after Azula's attack, and knew so completely then that whatever it was that Miyo had prayed for (whatever it had even started to become) had just evaporated before she could have known what it was (the places it would have taken her.)

Miyo had finally allowed herself to relent, to give in and see the satisfaction she had placed on Ty Lee's face. She had watched Ty Lee take Azula home, wondering why she was always the last to know.

After that, Miyo didn't care about what people said behind her back, about her supposed ineptitude or deficiencies in leading. She weathered them through her workdays as stonily as she endured her sister's disappointments at home (a family of officers, a house of expectations growing ever higher, and upwards.) If the village thought Ty Lee was conspiring with Azula, it was only because they didn't know the things that Miyo did, hadn't seen the things she had in the Fire Nation's capital, hadn't been there to stand in the long shadows cast by Wuhan.

Ty Lee had carved her homes where she could-hastily and halfheartedly-moving seamlessly from place to place, collecting its pieces to remember herself by. The things Miyo had envied her for, she now pitied, knowing so well that what she had mistaken for as self-reliance, was instead a hollowness, and all the things Ty Lee had been, she had left at the end of the war with Azula.

Unfortunately Ty Lee was finding out too late that it was easier to build new homes than it was to fix the old and broken. The things she had said goodbye to were now standing right beside her, just as she had left it, neglected and now so painfully lucid.

Kyoshi Island was a grave. Its fields and farmlands littered with broken soldiers, its lonely shores guarding their fevered, fitful slumbers as they waited and prayed to become whole again.

Watching her sister come home, Miyo knew that it wasn't always the battles that were the most devastating, but in the time after and trying to fit everything together that were the things that could destroy you. Peace was a misshapen thing, its path stymied by the ebbs and flows of recovery (forwards and backwards, until forward again) and so Miyo had waited patiently for Ty Lee to learn this as well, to learn that she didn't have to languish in order for Azula to heal.

When Ty Lee had showed up at her house in the middle of the night, soaked clear through her clothes by the misting rain, her eyes bloodshot and run dry, Miyo hadn't said a word.

"She didn't mention it." Miyo lied, expressionless as always. "Ready?" She asked, but her hand was already knocking at the door before falling back and reflexively checking the collar and ties of her uniform. The letter in her coat pocket crinkled under her clothes, reminding her that she was here in a formal capacity, no matter what measures she had made, no matter what decisions she had made that morning.

They listened for signs of movement, looking between each other when enough time had passed where it became clear that no one was coming to answer. Miyo cleared her throat and pounded her fist on the doorframe.

"Princess Azula, it's Captain Miyo. We're here to check your dressings." She called through the door.

The house remained quiet.

"Guard the front." Miyo told them shortly, turning away as Yui nodded back at her.

She slipped through the garden, skirting the fence easily and following its length around the perimeter of the small house. Each of the windows were shuttered, and likewise locked. The rear of the cottage faced thin woods that ran up towards the mountains, growing thicker as it rose higher in the distance. Miyo waited, halfway between the house and where her line of sight disappeared into tall evergreens, looking hesitantly from the rear door to the paths meandering down to the river and up into the forest. It reminded her so well of how far Ty Lee's house actually was from the rest of the village. Out here, there was no one else for miles, and being so freshly aware of that fact made Miyo that much more nervous about the kinds of things Princess Azula could get away with if Ty Lee's attention was turned, or became too lenient.

 _A good leader trusts her soldiers' abilities._ Miyo thought to herself, ashamed.  _An even better person trusts her friends._

She wondered painfully about what kind of friends Ty Lee thought they were.

When she came back around, she found Yui and Suzu resting together, leaning against the wall of the house. Seeing her return, Yui's back went ramrod straight as she tried to discretely stub the cigarette out and tuck the dead butt into the tin box she carried. Suzu wasn't as bothered, still sucking casually on the cigarette she had taken from her taller companion, looking up at the officer from where she squat lazily on the ground.

"Lay off. What's she gonna do, escape?" Suzu rolled her eyes even though Miyo hadn't said anything. "She can barely get out of bed. Relax, Miyo." She said

 _Captain. I'm your captain._ Miyo almost said, but there was no point demanding titles that no one would accord her with otherwise. She looked to her lieutenant, whose only sign of guilt was the way she didn't meet her eyes, staring straight ahead at the house and scratching the back of her neck.

"She's just ignoring us." Yui affirmed her own intuitions with a shrug of her shoulders.

Suzu snorted, a puff of smoke leaving her nostrils. "I should just let her legs rot and fall off, that spoiled ungrateful little b-"

Miyo sighed, knowing that they couldn't very well wait until the princess grew tired of their commotion. She looked between the two soldiers, knowing immediately who was the smarter choice. Pulling her hand away from her face, she waved it in the obscure direction of the village. "Yui, run to the training hall and ask Ty Lee for her key."

The lieutenant's eyebrows lowered, but compliant as always, she pulled her heavy coat off and moved back out the gate.

"Screw that." The disgruntled medic rose to her feet, flicking the still smoking butt into a patch of recently planted white turnips. "I'm getting home before nightfall." She said churlishly, going to the door and hammering on it with the flat of her hand, rattling it thunderously in its frame. "Hey!" She yelled with enough volume that made Miyo wince. "Open up or I'm breaking this down!" She waited all of two seconds before giving her companions a shrug of indifference.

"Wait, Suzu-" Miyo started as the girl rolled up her sleeves.

The door slid open with a clattering bang at the same time Suzu brought the heel of her foot down at the keyhole and went stumbling when she hit empty air instead. Azula looked on humorlessly as the kick missed her bruised abdomen by mere inches and the momentum sent Suzu careening into the door jamb. Ignoring the girl's ensuing stream of curses, Azula gazed looked over her at the other two women occupying Ty Lee's yard, nonplussed.

"The elite of Kyoshi Island." Azula said, tilting her head and made it appear in such a way that she was peering at them down the length of her nose. The bruises on her face had started to turn shades of green and purple that made her look sickly. She looked tired, and seemed to have aged years since the last time (the first time) they had seen each other. "Why am I not surprised?"

Miyo always dreaded her encounters with Princess Azula, even though she understood that at varying depths and different degrees, so did the rest of the island's inhabitants. Still, she remained certain that no one else felt it so well as the one among them designated to be the princess' warden.

They said that to have met Azula on the battlefield in the prime of her days was as dangerous as grasping at living wildfire. Even so long ago, and stripped so cleanly of her authority and powers, Azula remained every bit as Miyo had imagined, and all of a sudden those stories had become reality. Presented to Kyoshi Island as bound and defeated as she was, Azula had stared fearlessly back at them, and Miyo knew then that all the gossip and tales had been true, and that those that would underestimate the princess even (especially) now would be doing so to their own misfortune. However kind and hard-won the circumstances of Azula's captivity were, her appreciation for the island and those responsible for her custody was akin to the respect a shackled beast had for its cage.

Miyo could never shake the impression that all Azula was doing was waiting.

"Captain." The high treble of Azula's voice served the girl's purposes well of making everything that came from her lips sound treacherously enticing, and mocking.

"Ty Lee told us you aggravated your injuries this morning." Yui replied in her place, her tone brisk and unfazed as always. Miyo had never been able to tell if the older girl's attitude came from having years of guilt eat away at her while she watched her old squadron slowly go mad, or if the girl had simply ceased to care anymore. When it came to Yui, either case seemed likely.

Azula's eyes flickered back to Miyo, and the young Kyoshi Warrior waited with her breath in her throat to see if the princess would betray Ty Lee, and reveal that her would-be caretaker had left her in the middle of the night, unguarded and alone and at the same time show them the duplicities of their own commanding officer.

"And it took you this long to get here?" Azula said in a way that showed that she wasn't very surprised at all.

"We came all this way here so you can show some gratitude." Suzu snapped, having recovered her balance, but not her dignity.

"Suzu." Miyo cautioned with a sharp look, but the medic acted like she hadn't heard.

"For guards who failed to even do their most basic jobs." The princess started acridly. "I don't think so." She left the door open anyway, walking into the house without a backwards glance to see if they would follow.

"Stay here." Miyo said shortly to Yui as she knelt to pull off her boots at the entranceway. Next to her, Suzu grumbled her irritation, uttering something indiscernible that earned her a light bat on the arm from the lieutenant. The captain ignored their antics, turning to them soberly and hoping that for all of their personal biases and loyalties, that they had all the poise and self-composure to remain professional.

"We'll be finished soon, so please just bear with it." She said as Suzu rolled her eyes again, before picking up her satchel and pushing her way past her and into the house. Miyo followed, pulling the door closed just before she caught Yui's look of sympathy.

In a moment of self-indulgence, Miyo allowed herself to look around at the house. A long time ago, it had been an abandoned boathouse sitting uselessly on a beach no one visited anymore. Its repurposed walls and space now gave the building's interior a quaint and subdued feel, and Miyo's eyes traced over the nails and the brushstrokes in its paint, the boards of new wood mismatched with the old, trying to imagine Ty Lee bent with hammer and nail. At first, she couldn't see it, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense, wondering if Ty Lee had found a measure of value in building a home as self-made as she was.

"I heard she got a boyfriend to do it." Suzu said lowly, reading Miyo's thoughts. "Two at once, even." Thinking that Miyo would be better served with a more illustrative demonstration, she shook her fist in front of her mouth with a sly wink. "What?" She asked innocently. "Everyone knows about this stuff. It's just that no one tells you anything anymore because they think after your promotion, you're supposed to be distinguished." She waved her hands dramatically at the last word, like she knew better.

Azula acted like she hadn't heard (Miyo knew Azula had heard because the girl had the hearing of a cat), not saying anything in Ty Lee's defense or looking the slightest bit surprised at the distasteful rumors, which was how Miyo knew that what Ty Lee had said last night was true. Even more, it was how she knew all her suspicions were right, but Miyo had to remind herself that these days, nobody cared how she felt about anything.

"Just being nice." Suzu finished, affronted by how off-put the captain was, like everything she had been saying had been to Miyo's benefit.

Befitting her earlier expressed sentiments, the young doctor promptly set about her work, going to where Azula sat on the makeshift bed of blankets and furs. Where Azula rested was-in reality-just a temporary corner of the living room, cordoned off by curtains made of laundry wire and sheets into a vague measure of privacy. On such short notice, it had undoubtedly been all that Ty Lee could afford the princess, despite the plain openness with which Azula regarded her surroundings.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you." Suzu went on snidely, the low-sitting table which she knelt at quickly filling with collections of bandages and glass vials.

"Was that supposed to be comforting?" Azula asked impassively, answered by an even look and the snapping of a rubber glove.

Suzu replied crabbily. "Just take your clothes off."

The medic had unfurled her instruments, her fingers moving clipped and methodically as she threaded the needle with ease and set it within the nose of a slender pair of tweezers. Behind her, Miyo allowed herself to relax a little as Suzu's usual appearance of facile glibness dissolved into a visage of rigid soberness the more she worked. In turn, Azula moved automatically in response to the girl's commands to shift her body for her inspection, tilting her head and lifting her arms in time with each preemption of Suzu's routine.

The folds of Azula's shirt fell away and when the unkempt bandages were peeled off, Miyo winced to see the sticky, coagulated mess of pus and blood.

"Oh come on," The medic cursed, pulling her hands away from Azula's waist. The length of the sutures running down the girl's side had slowly been weeping blood for evidently some time, and Suzu began to dab furiously at the scabs that had torn open. "How did it even get like this?"

"Shoddy work, obviously." Azula replied, her half-dressed state clearly not being an obstacle for voicing her opinion. "I don't even have basic medical care to look forward to in this pathetic place."

"You were fine when you left the clinic!" Suzu protested furiously as she flipped fervently through the princess' medical file.

Suzu was the youngest in a line of physicians, and took all remarks about her father's clinic extremely seriously. Understanding her sentiments, Miyo remained sympathetic but quiet, unwilling to explain how she knew that Azula had pulled her stitches on a nighttime run through the rain, chasing the very person who was supposed to be guarding her.

"Clearly not."

They bickered the whole time the Suzu worked, and the young captain didn't know with whom she was more impressed by, the medic who sneered out barbs as her hands worked adroitly to clean and re-suture the open wounds, or the princess who laid back and returned everything with equal cutting proficiency as the needle passed in and out of her skin.

For all of her irreverence, Suzu was still exceptionally practiced, and the whole process took less than an hour. The medic had cleaned her hands and retrieved the medicine jar on the nightstand, frowning when she opened it and saw that it was still as full as when Emi had delivered it from the clinic.

"You didn't even use any of it!" Suzu cried loudly, thrusting the jar out angrily to show that she had been right all along about the princess' irresponsibility.

Azula looked listlessly at the container. Undoubtedly the idea of Suzu's hands roaming invasively over her body anymore than necessary struck the princess as even more nauseating than the remedy itself. "And you're deluded if you think I'm going to start now."

"Oh yeah, stupid me for thinking that medicine could save you from being rotten on the inside out." Suzu screwed the lid back on and dropped it back into her satchel alongside the freshly cleaned scissors and needles. "Medicine like this is wasted on you. Do you have any idea how long it takes to make this, you miserable ungrateful little-"

"Suzu." Miyo cautioned heavily, hoping to impress upon the other Kyoshi Warrior the gravity of their stations, and the importance of good conduct, but only earned a hot stare in return. "Wait outside with Yui."

Suzu's face lit up with outrage. "Wow, rude much? This was my day off, okay, I didn't need to be here. You were the one who dragged all of us up here when you could have just as easily sent the attending physician-"

"Go outside." Miyo cut her off shortly when all she wanted to do was bury her face in her hands in exasperation, her cheeks flushing faintly when Suzu continued to stare back brazenly, and Azula looked like she was going to burst into laughter at any second. "Please." She finished, quieter than when she had first started.

For a moment it looked like Suzu was going to refuse again, but the sound of the door rustling open cut through what else she was going to say next, disrupting the tension between the soldier and the captain.

"Suzu." Yui called, her head poking from between the screens.

If she had an inkling of what she had just interrupted, she didn't let on as she prompted her friend with a level look. "Quit fooling around. I need your help on the beach."

Suzu's sense of indignation evaporated tangibly-almost instantly-replaced by a gentler suspicion as she looked between her two comrades. "What? Why?"

"Emi wants me to bring her grandmother some seashells for the garden." In her fist, the tall Kyoshi Warrior held up a limp mesh bag and waved it as evidence of forethought, banishing any notion of a masquerading ruse.

The medic glowered, unsatisfied. "Why don't you then?"

"Because I'm making you do it." Yui replied off-handedly before ducking back outside, the door sliding shut again without further preamble.

Like magic, Suzu rose obediently, crossed the threshold, and disappeared out the door without another word. Through the house, Miyo could hear the beginnings of their conversation, Suzu's abrupt and barking voice and Yui's patient and quiet reply. Someone laughed and Miyo waited for the crunch of dirt underfoot to disappear as the sounds of their steps lessened as they walked down to the shore.

"Was that your lieutenant?" Azula asked despite already knowing the answer. The princess was very gifted at cutting with the lightest remarks. "You must hate her." Her voice was hard and unyielding like what she said was a simple, unchangeable fact.

Miyo let the wound fester, ignoring the way her own silence pulled at her. Azula had yet to close her shirt, and her injuries painted a canvas of green and blue across pale white flesh under bandages and bindings, and made Miyo look down uncomfortably.

"This is from the village council." The Kyoshi Warrior said, handing the envelope out from inside her coat, laying it on the floor and sliding it to the halfway point from where she knelt on the floor, and the princess' bed. Azula didn't reply immediately, looking at the thin paper like she couldn't have cared less about its contents, and found the whole fanfare Miyo was putting on about it to be tedium.

Still, Miyo's talents came from doing everything exactly as she was told, saying exactly what she was supposed to say. "In light of recent events, the time needed for your recovery, and the absence of any leads concerning your attack, it's been agreed that your sentence will be temporarily commuted to something more accommodating. The work is small and menial, but I assure you that it is well needed." Miyo took a breath here, small, but deep enough to give herself away. "On behalf of the elders, and the squad," Her hands dropped in front of her, her fingertips pressing the floor a fist's length ahead of her knees. She tilted her body with the perfect and drilled precision of a good, well-behaved soldier. "I apologize for my failure to look after you."

When she looked back up, Azula was as unmoved as she anticipated her to be. Even so, there was something unexpected, something strange in the way she looked back.

With saying a word, Azula reached out and touched her hand to the envelope, her long fingers steepled over the dark blue seal of Kyoshi Island, and pushed it aside.

They looked at each other, alone for the first time, their silence underscored by the whispers of ocean waves washing onto the beach.

Azula had very clear, very sharp eyes, lacking any glimmers of madness that Miyo had expected to cloud its depths. It was hard to believe that it was mere weeks ago that this girl had sat at the bottom of some hospital cellar, languishing away in a fevered, drugged, delirium. There were endless rumors that the princess' mental collapse had been a mere fabrication on the Fire Nation's part, ones that Miyo would have been inclined to believe if it hadn't been for the palace guards visiting the compound at all hours of the night, and of course, Ty Lee.

Azula was beautiful, as Emi was so often prone to adore in her many childish moments of idle fancy.  _A beautiful princess exiled to a strange and distant land_ , the young girl would sigh like this all just came from a nostalgic adventure tale told at her aunt's knee.

Azula might have had the charisma to enchant those around her blind, but Miyo knew enough of people (enough of the world) to know that they were more than the stories they fit into. Nothing was ever written in stone, fates shifted as easily as the people themselves, the life you plan is somehow never the one you live, and the world changes in the blink of an eye.

"Well?" Azula began humorlessly.

"Well what?" Miyo didn't blink, remaining as indiscernible as always. For the first time, it failed to protect her at all.

Azula spoke impatiently and enunciated every word like she was talking to a slow and bungling child. "Start asking whatever it is you came here for."

Miyo never thought of herself as an obvious person. She considered it her only advantage in commanding the same women she had grown up with, but maintaining strict adherences didn't mean that she was stupid enough to not know how to pick her battles, or when to quit.

Azula turned her head, stroking a finger along her single unbruised cheek thoughtfully. "Ty Lee's still the same." She said, reading so cleverly all of Miyo's concerns, and cutting so remorselessly to the heart of the matter, anticipating the captain's thoughts before she could gather them. "As soon as things get difficult for her, she turns tail and hides until it's convenient for her. She can beg all she wants, but I know the truth. She doesn't even deny it anymore. She'll always be a coward." She finished musingly, like she was just uncovering a piece of wisdom, a token of illuminating advice to be appreciated. "I was wondering where she had run off to this time." Her golden eyes flicked up and down Miyo scornfully.

"She was heartbroken." The captain replied, knowing that she was being baited but unable to stand the slights made towards the girl who worked so tirelessly for the impossible goal of something so simple as someone's gratitude. "She thought that she had ruined-" Miyo didn't know how to phrase the things Ty Lee had confessed in a late-night torrent of bleary-eyed panic and remorse. "She thought you were building something together."

Azula repeated Miyo's last three words back to her incredulously, looking at the Kyoshi Warrior like she couldn't decide if she wanted to first laugh or grimace in disgust, before finishing with a scornful curl of her lip, "She thought wrong."

Azula's glibness rankled the young officer, and Miyo's brain screamed for her stop, to quit before she did something that she regretted. Miyo didn't know why she was even bothering. With her job finished, she should have gone back to the village, and in the back of her mind she wondered why she didn't, wondered why out of all the times she should choose to act so uncharacteristically (carelessly) that her logic should abandon her at such a time. "Ty Lee's done a lot to bring you here."

Azula gave her a look to let her know how perilously she was treading. "You assume a lot of what I should be grateful for."

"It's better than Wuhan." Miyo managed boldly.

The finger under Azula's chin paused, and the captain got the distinct impression that what she had just gotten away with something very dangerous. The princess considered her with calm patience. It set Miyo on edge, because it was the first time that she had seen Azula look at her with anything besides disdain. It meant that she amused her, and Miyo didn't enjoy the feeling of being toyed.

"You should be careful, warden." Azula said after a while, like she had been deliberating something that she only just now came to a decision about. "You're here for the concerns of one person while the rest of your squad openly defies you."

Miyo looked startled, her eyebrows knitting together in irritation. "I didn't come here for-"

"Skip that." Azula interrupted her shortly. "I know exactly what you came here for." Her voice taking on a tone that left little doubt as to what she was referring to. Miyo's spine stiffened, but Azula didn't pursue the matter any further beyond adding an afterthought. "I wouldn't worry about it; Ty Lee is like that with everyone. You're not special."

She breezed over the well-placed barb, continuing on while she let her words seep over the hapless young captain's heart. Pouring a cup of water, Azula examined the lone Kyoshi Warrior with a wry glance.

"Your real problem is that you don't know the first thing about leadership ." She stated as a matter of fact, sipping her water carefully to avoid pulling the scabbing cuts in her face. Her impromptu midnight run hadn't been kind to even the most superficial of her wounds, and the shallower gashes had healed into thin lines of pink.

Miyo darkened. "I'm a perfectly capable leader."

"Inheriting the position from your sibling hardly makes you a capable leader."

At the look on Miyo's face, Azula sneered contemptuously. "Please. I know an inferiority complex when I see one. You and my brother would have gotten along famously."

She went on, holding herself up by propping her back against the wall, like she had done when Emi had visited her the previous day.

"I'm going to give you some advice, as one former commander of armies to…" Azula's hand grasped vaguely at the air, as she tried to summon the appropriate title. "You." She left the word hanging in the air lamely, to Miyo's chagrin.

"You think your softness gives you an advantage. Your priorities are ridiculous. Ty Lee's not someone you worry about taking orders, you worry about that smile she puts on when the people around you are tearing you into the ground." She stopped, taking on a wistful tone, like she was remembering something that had once upon a time given her great amusement. "I, on the other hand, would have had that Suzu girl thrown off my ship and dragged across a reef for her insolence."

The image it evoked sent a shudder down Miyo's back, eliciting a reflexive defensiveness.

"This isn't the Fire Nation." Miyo said coldly, silently all the more grateful to the Avatar for ensuring that no part of the Earth Kingdom ever would be again. "We don't treat our people like that."

"At your own disservice, I'm sure." Azula said, continuing to give her replies from off-hand assessments, unsettling the captain even more through her chilling appraisals. She was speaking to Miyo like she was doing her a favor instead of thoroughly insulting the livelihoods of everyone the Kyoshi Warrior held dear, going on like she was more enjoying the sound of her own voice than being invested in whether or not Miyo's leadership actually failed. "Soldiers need discipline like their leaders need respect. This sad group of rejects has neither."

"They respect me." Miyo said emphatically, the anger rising in her voice, knowing so dismally what her captive was doing but being unable to stop herself. Azula had probed at her fringes until she had found the rifts, her weaknesses, and was now pressing down viciously, observing how her warden squirmed and writhed.

"They're wary. That can hardly be called the same thing."

"Their sisters served with mine." Miyo said by way of explanation, leaving unsaid how the Fire Nation princess had been the reason for their suffering.

 _I'm giving you a great burden_ , their leader had told her gravely the last time they had spoke on the eve of Suki's departure. Miyo had been too flustered to find a reply, bewildered by her sudden and meteoric rise through the ranks, and it had been all she could do to keep from being overcome when Suki placed a gentle hand to her arm and instructed her to keep the island safe until she returned. Miyo understood too late what Suki had meant, had been preoccupied with the wrongs things, unknowing of the future, that the island could destroy itself as easily through the princess' stolid presence as through any malevolent manipulation. Azula's assailants could have been anyone, and the futility of Miyo's search left her chasing unsubstantiated leads in the dark, her empty actions falling rote.

She thought about Aya, who was too young to be growing so angry, Yui's quiet moroseness and the once-familiar brightness Miyo couldn't find in the older girl's eyes anymore, the watermill on the farm road and its lonely occupant, the shadow of her own sister's form as she bent at her forge, hammering weapons she would never use again.

If I go down this road, I'm lost, she thought, hoping for the wisdom to separate her loyalties from her duties.

Suki had always governed with kindness, a compassion that counterbalanced the sternness of her command. With Suki gone, Miyo often wondered what she would have done in her place, how so ill-suited she herself was to filling the space of someone who had been as much loved as she was admired. Her replacement was hardly a balm, more a compensation, paltry and painful.

"I'm proud of all of them." She said sincerely,

"How pathetic, seeing as they don't seem to think much of you." Azula remarked, unimpressed. Like having read Miyo's last thoughts, her amusement had turned into a scowl. "Kindness," The word slipped from her lips like she found its very sound to be disgusting in her mouth. "Isn't a strength. They have to be afraid of the consequences of disobedience. They have to fear you."

Like before, she spoke facilely, and Miyo listened resentfully as the princess confessed all the antiquated tenets that had driven her ruthless methods, each as indifferently as the last, and the terrible paradox of sitting in a seaside hut, taking advice from the world's most reviled woman wasn't lost on her. There had been something bothering Miyo the whole while, nagging incessantly at her ever since Suzu had left, playing underneath the princess' words.

Miyo cut her off with a strange look. "Why are you helping me?"

Azula was almost pitying, like marginal as the captain was, she had expected better from her. "I'm not." The princess didn't elaborate, and Miyo knew that she wouldn't even if asked. The frankness of her reply did nothing to alleviate Miyo's fears that the younger girl was pulling at something, invisibly moving the things around her. Miyo failed to be anything except appropriately distrustful.

The door opened again, and this time it was Suzu who interrupted them. Returning noisily, the medic tromped her way through the entryway and paused impudently at the foot of the raised floor. In her hand was the bag Yui had shown previously, now filled to the brim with sand-crusted and kaleidoscopic shells that the lieutenant had tasked her with. The air of tension readily ignored in the face of more important interests, Suzu crossed her arms across her torso and glared impatiently.

Suzu snapped her fingers repeatedly when Miyo didn't greet her. "If you're not leaving, I am." She announced, swinging the bag over her shoulder to show that she meant to depart immediately.

The captain glanced up, replying briskly and trying to remain nonchalant in front of the princess as the situation slipped through her fingers. "In a second."

Suzu's response was to sigh exasperatedly, making a dismissive gesture with her hand, scoffing, "whatever" as she stormed out, the sounds of her departure as loud as her brief arrival.

Miyo's heart sank, and she sensed Azula gloating before she saw the princess' now all too familiar smirk.

"Don't get left behind now,  _captain_."

There was no imagining the mockery this time, and thoroughly chastened, Miyo dismally and hastily climbed to her feet, picking up the leftovers of Suzu's belongings that she had been left to take care of. Her face burned in embarrassment as she grabbed the doctor's satchel and hurried to lace up her boots, eager to be rid of Azula's presence. After some hesitation, and in a faint moment of vindictiveness, she left the medicinal salve on a nearby table before locking the door on her way out, conscious to the eyes that followed her out.

With Yui standing guard until Ty Lee's return, she rushed to catch up with the medic already down the road, falling in step with the other warrior as they met the beach path up to the village. Suzu didn't give a word of acknowledgement, and Miyo knew enough about her to not think that a reprimand would do anything besides backfire horribly. Content to talk in quiet, Miyo's mind replayed the bizarre conversation in the beach house, trying in vain to glean something worthwhile about the princess' strange counsel.

For someone with sustained head trauma and claiming memory loss, Azula was surprisingly cognizant and lucid. The possibility occurred to Miyo again that Azula remembered much more than she was letting on. If she had ulterior motives, Miyo couldn't see it for the time being, and even so, she was more preoccupied with the understated message behind Azula's advice.

 _You're as lucky as you are weak._ Miyo understood it as plain as day, and there was no doubt in her mind that had she been older, had it been her off to war with Suki in her sister's place, that Azula would have killed her in battle with as much effort and conscience as swatting away a fly.

To her credit, Suzu held out all the way until they reached the fishing pier before she cracked. "So what was that all about?" She feigned disinterest, but Miyo knew better.

Miyo had been a squad leader for less than a week, far less talented, and her position far less warranted than the leaders who came before her, and in her few days at the helm had grown familiar to the sense of helplessness that was now routine. She wondered if she would grow used to it before it killed her.

"I don't know."

The market in Kyoshi Island was always a noisy affair. Nestled beneath the climbing road of houses and storefronts, the stalls of farmers and tradesmen from around the island sprung up like a rising forest of motley colors, and for the rest of the day until evening, it seemed like all the people from the villages around the island were packed in between the makeshift overhangs, pushcarts, and poultry pens.

* * *

Ty Lee loved the market. She loved the hawkers crowing their wares, the smell of produce and smoking meat, the streaming banners of guild emblems, the flocks of merchants and husbands haggling loudly over prices. She loved knowing that a thousand miles off, over cultures and continents, that some things about people were the same no matter where in the world she was.

She floated amongst them aimlessly, browsing with no purpose other than finishing unimportant errands she had been putting off. She visited acquaintances that she hadn't seen in years, greeting the people that she had missed. The gentle pace of Kyoshi Island settled over her with all the comfort and intimacy of an old friend, another guise in a different place, another role, but at heart the same.

She fit into her given positions well, her assignment with Miyo, and training the remaining reserve officers. As taxing as her duties were, they had in short time come to feel like a balm.

Last night had been a mistake. She thought back with the regret of hasty, ill-tempered actions, knowing that it was one thing to reveal the things that one couldn't say, and quite another to bring to light the things one shouldn't. In a flash of anger, she had dug up the very past they had spent years putting to rest. She had brought up Ozai like all the princess' father had been to Azula was just her puppeteer, crafting her in his image and stringing her along. She had brought up Ursa like all she had meant was just a shade plaguing dreams and weaknesses, a nightmare the girl never outgrew. Ty Lee had taken the princess' secrets, belittled them, and ripped them brazenly open at Azula's feet, and when the realization had beset her with panic, in the end she had done what she did best-proving the invariable truths of Azula's predictions-and had fled.

She had nowhere to go. When she had turned up at the village blacksmith, she had been just as surprised at her own arrival as Miyo was when the captain opened the door and found the girl on her stoop, drenched through her clothes, hugging herself against the wind.

The older girl hadn't said a word, her normal aloofness turning grim, but invited her in all the same. She hardly spoke two words for the rest of the night, intuitively knowing the reason for Ty Lee's sudden appearance, waiting patiently (kindly). Ty Lee had fought Miyo for so long on the right to house Azula, and had expected all of the captain's furor to return ten times over, but even in the morning, Miyo kept her silence, as compassionate as she was enduring, instead of saying what she should have said.

Miyo was polite and generous even the next day, saving Ty Lee's face by looking almost disappointed when the acrobat told her that she would be going back home in the afternoon.

Ty Lee had the whole thing thought out. By now, whatever physician Miyo had sent would have already left, and Azula would be recuperating from her examination. Her injuries combined with all the years spent in confinement had made Azula prone to lethargy and lately she was spending her afternoons napping. With any luck, Ty Lee could return home quietly, have dinner made and be back in her room finishing lesson plans for the rest of the night before Azula even noticed. Living under the same roof, she couldn't very well avoid Azula forever, but she could sure try for a few more days while she figured out her own thoughts and the princess' temper cooled.

Approaching the beach hut, she could see Yui stationed at the door, sitting on the small veranda of the house, apparently having decided to wait the duration of her shift from outside the house politely. At the sound of the gate opening, the lieutenant looked up and tucked the book away, standing up as the younger girl waved.

"Hey, Yui." Ty Lee said brightly. She could always count on the officer to be at least cordial. Seeing her made Ty Lee relax a little bit, grateful that it wasn't Suzu or Aya who had been waiting for her.

"Good afternoon." The tall girl replied with matching civility and a trifling smile of her own. Curiously, her gaze fell to the overnight duffel hanging from Ty Lee's shoulder, unbothered as the bag was pushed nonchalantly behind her back. "Suzu said that everything looked okay." She went on without prying, reading Ty Lee's more overriding worries ably. "She'll heal up fine, as long as she stays out of anymore accidents."

The last word lit Ty Lee's face up. She had never been good with manufacturing on the spot lies, and regretted all the more for having some up with something so lame as Azula pulling her stitches out from an accidental fall. It hadn't sounded very good in her head, and it sounded even worse coming from someone else's mouth.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I'll keep a closer eye on her." Ty Lee winced when she heard the stammer.

Yui nodded, not noticing as she pulled the unlit cigarette from behind her ear and started patting her pockets. "Although, I'm surprised. You would think someone so," Her lips pursed as she tried to think of something suitable. "Athletically gifted wouldn't be so clumsy."

"She's been locked up for a while."

Yui blinked as if she hadn't taken it into consideration. "Yeah, it must have been quite a toll, you're right."

Ty Lee gave an anxious look at the door, hoping that Azula wouldn't hear them and come out. "Is she sleeping right now?"

Yui shook her head, igniting a match, the bead of flame flaring as she drew it into the tobacco butt before waving it out in blooming tendrils of smoke. "Things got a little exciting after I found her making a break for the fishing barges. She put up a fight, but I managed to subdue her and toss her into the larder. She's still there now I think."

Seeing the look on Ty Lee's face, Yui held the cigarette in her mouth to clap a hand to the other girl's shoulder. "I'm kidding, Ty Lee." She deadpanned. "You know better than anyone how severe her injuries are. Of course she's sleeping."

After a fraught pause, Ty Lee's response was to laugh neurotically, her face a mixture of perplexity and horror as she stared at the oblivious officer, who only smiled back surreptitiously at their shared joke.

"Well, if that's all," Yui shook ash from the front of her uniform. "I'll be going. I have to help my dad pack the stall." Her eyebrows lifted thoughtfully, like she was enumerating an endless list of chores. All the Kyoshi Warriors worked their families' businesses in their off-time, a fact that Ty Lee had previously exploited in lobbying for Azula's custody.

Ty Lee returned a final wave as she went, staring at the departing girl in mystification.

True to Yui's word, Azula's curtain was closed when Ty Lee came into the house. Listening for sounds of movement, Ty Lee shut the door as softly as she could, picking her way to the kitchen. The house was silent, giving no hint that anyone was awake.

Everything was where she had left it, the half-started meal, the herbs that she was supposed to give Azula, the fire that had gone out. It laid around her as evidence of their quarrel, a moment seized and frozen in time. She put the remaining groceries that she had forgotten into the larder, happy to find its contents devoid of any captive princesses, and set about cleaning the ashes in the stove. The food was beyond salvaging and she dumped it along with the tepid medicine.

The kindling box was empty.

Remembering that there was more wood at the hearth, she noiselessly made her way to the living room, keenly aware of how close Azula's bed was. She kept her eyes trained on the curtain as she knelt to gather the firewood, waiting of any flutter of movement, knowing that while her body may have atrophied, Azula's instincts were still as quick as ever. She didn't think she had any energy at this point to deal with Azula if she were to wake up and start a confrontation. Thankfully the drapes remained still, and she let out a sigh of relief, moving to stand up.

It looked like Azula really was sleeping.

As if sensing her abrupt complacency, the curtains shoved themselves aside, and suddenly she was face to face with a glowing visage of rage.

"Ty Lee." Azula barked angrily.

Ty Lee screamed.

Her surprise sent her tumbling back on her behind, the pieces of timber strewing around her. Holding a hand to her heaving chest, she sat like a deer in the firelight, staring at the princess in mute shock, distantly wondering if the princess had been waiting there the whole time.

Azula scowled back dangerously, looking between her and the clutter that laid around her incomprehensibly. "What are you doing?"

Ty Lee's brain started to race at miles a minute, her body driving itself automatically as she tried to think of a suitable excuse, or at least a good diversion. Her efforts stood failed as a million of both entered her mind at once.

"Oh hey 'Zula, you're awake, that's good!" She chirped cheerily as she fell to her to knees and began to pick up the fallen timber piece by piece, babbling hysterically. "Suzu sure did a good job-I mean, you look great! How was your day? Mine was good, stressful, but that's how it is, right? I'm making dinner right now. Obviously. That's why I'm getting firewood. I was thinking about making ox-mackerel, but then I thought it might be better if I asked you-"

"What are you doing?" Azula repeated sharply.

The pile of wood in Ty Lee's arms was suddenly very fascinating. "Uh, nothing."

Azula looked at her in disgust at her weak reply, pushing the drapes aside all the way. Ty Lee shifted uncomfortably, wishing powerfully that she had just gone outside for firewood.

The princess' voice was perilously cool. "You had some very brave things to say last night, and now you want to talk about dinner?"

"Well-"

"Save it."

Ty Lee wilted. "I-"

"I'm not interested in promises you can't keep." Azula snapped irritably through gritted teeth, holding a hand over her eyes. She exhaled heavily, pressing delicately at her brow, a habit that she had adopted against her frequent bouts of headaches.

She didn't speak for a while, and Ty Lee waited painfully for Azula to fall on her with all the anger she was entitled to. The darkness in the princess' eyes was unnerving, and with each creeping second, Ty Lee grew smaller and smaller. When Azula broke her silence, she did so with the strong and rigid conviction of a day-long deliberation.

"I've thought about it, and I've heard that the key in these situations is communication." Azula said stiffly.

"What?" Ty Lee blinked after a pause, unsure what was meant by that, what Azula was even talking about.

"If it's easier for you," Azula went on evenly-although ponderously-like each subsequent word was excruciating. Ty Lee stared, trying to make sense of what was being said, her confusion only being confounded by what the princess said next. "We can talk."

The princess appeared flustered and Ty Lee was stunned at this realization.

"Talk?" The Kyoshi Warrior repeated dumbly, hardly daring to believe.

Azula turned irate, her face flushing unmistakably. "Yes, that's what I said." She snapped, the edge in her voice falling thankfully back into its familiar mockery. "Is there an echo in here? I don't want to wake up with another knife in my spine after your next temper tantrum, since apparently cowardice is incurable." Horrible as her words were, its sting was lessened by the warning Azula finished with, surprisingly muted and vulnerable in its softness. "Don't ever run out like that again."

At the last sentence, the pile of wood hit the floor again in a scattering thud and before she could help it, Ty Lee lost her reason, and found herself with her arms draped around Azula's neck.

"Get a hold of yourself!" Azula sputtered disdainfully, pushing the other girl off her in a tangle of limbs.

Azula had never been able to stomach her touch anymore. Hospitals had been different occasions on their own, and prisons were made to starve and torment. Here, they had their luxuries, their pride, and Ty Lee respected Azula's with all the care and duty she could afford. She berated herself for forgetting, but had never lied to herself to say that the absence never pained her.

"Right, sorry." Ty Lee scratched embarrassedly at her head, looking everywhere except at Azula. She felt lightheaded, like she had been running for leagues, struggling to breathe until at last at the end, all the air had flooded into her chest with dizzying elation. She couldn't help smiling anyway, letting the moment pull at the corners of her mouth until she was beaming.

"You're getting carried away, again." Azula said dryly, reading Ty Lee's expression through narrowed eyes, more exasperated than angry.

Ty Lee wanted to agree, but instead laughed hopelessly, her relief pricking behind her eyes and blurring her vision. Inside her chest, her heart clenched viciously. Expectant of Azula's derisive jeers, she raised a hand to hide it, feeling altogether childish and stupid, failing to find a preemption for the inevitable ridicule.

Her apologies died in her throat, frozen at the long fingers that traced down her face in fleeting gentleness. Unbidden, Ty Lee's breath held itself as the princess brushed her tears away with casual ease, unmomentously and plainly, like she had done so a thousand times before.

It was over in an instant, gone as quick as it had began.

"You cry so easily." Azula scolded lightly, peering at her, her eyes enigmatic and warm.

Azula looked at Ty Lee and it felt familiar and old.

It felt like returning from a long voyage, like leaving home and making another in foreign lands, like unearthing childhood dreams she had never lost hope on, like discovering the difference between running away and waiting for courage.

It felt like life, it felt like something beginning and something new.


	18. This Place Is a Shelter

By the end of the first week, Azula was sure that the old woman they had her working for was a complete lunatic.

Fishing linens from the shallows of the stream bed (where she had fenced the clothes within a wooden lattice wedged in the corners of heavy stones to keep bedclothes and underthings from scattering to the corners of the river and saving herself from having to search the snaking lengths of water and bushy reeds, not that she would know) she waded to the slated rocky riverbank, questioning the suspect logic of having laundry done in the river so close to the start of the winter frost. In the freezing current, Azula's fingers became stiff and the skin around her nails had started to crack and wrinkle from chasing errant clothing among the rocky shallows with her bare hands. Any padding she kept between her skin and the steel cuffs became useless the second she plunged into the stream with all the unmitigated enjoyment of slogging through her chores with chaffed and raw skin.

Beating the clothes on the granite ribs of the rocky bank, she set to work with a horse-hair brush (careful not to fray anything after the first time they dock her stipend) scrubbing meticulously so that she wouldn't have to suffer the Kyoshi Warriors' nagging and be returned to repeat the chore. The lye in the scraps of tallow made her fingers sting from where the pink divets opened in her hands. When she finished washing, she wrung the water from the garments and packed them together with the wicker nets into the basket she wore on her back. Drying her hands on a towel she kept hanging on a dead poplar, she tucked the cloth under the fork of her shirt neck and left the river before any of the washerwomen could find her.

It had finally occurred to the Kyoshi Warrior captain that keeping a high-profile captive in the remote fringes of the village would persist in inviting trouble. In an apparent usurpation of authority (under Suki's directive, when fast word had reached wherever it was that the woman was now in her travels with the Avatar and a series of missives have been pigeoned across the globe, most of which returning back home) Miyo had the princess removed to the inner hubs of the village's commercial district, brazenly flouting the wishes of the council, and in a move that undoubtedly was supposed to flex the growing political muscle of the Kyoshi Warriors. While the move had been necessary to maintain good relations with the Fire Nation, it was considerably less popular on the island, and for the first days Miyo struggled with carrying out Suki's directions, alternating between fighting off interrogations from the village council and receiving villagers who crowded the headquarters with complaints in hand. In the meantime, the village was perfectly unwilling to yield the identity of Azula's attackers. Despite Miyo's apparent struggle in procuring medical records from each of the islands clinics, Azula had already known that Aya's accomplices would likely vanish. Peasants were like insects, clamoring in mobs, and protecting their own.

The "well-needed" work began with Azula as a house-servant for a feeble-minded crone and her old maid of a daughter, scrubbing their pots and floors, replacing broken panes in their walls and doors, and chasing errands from one end of the town to the other. Suki's foresight was well-noted as constant surveillance from the Kyoshi Warriors was replaced by the ever-wary gaze of a hundred villagers whenever the princess set foot in town, although Azula was certain that they had thought up more subversive ways to keep her within arm's reach.

Her theory didn't sit untested for long when on her first day they sent her running around the island, chasing her errands among unremarkable plots of dormant grain fields and identical farmhouses. The old women ran a stall at the market square that would send Azula to the farmlands to meet with their supplier every morning, requiring that Azula make the trip to the countryside at sunrise (after she had hung the laundry to dry, dragging an ancient, ungainly wheel cart that kicked up dust in thick plumes that announced her to everyone well within a league's span.) On her way she passed caravans of farmers driving wagons laden with barrels of grain and dried meat, hastening their mule-rams as they passed her on their way to the guarded air-field. The farmhouse took some time to find but she couldn't say that she was surprised to see the girl who met her at the edge of a stretched grid of corrugated plots of buckwheat, a canvas of speckled blossoms at her feet, lined edge to edge with bundled stems of color.

"Oh," Yui had said, standing in a frock and sunhat, with as much apparent surprise at the princess' apron and timely appearance to match Azula's incredulity at the officer's mud-caked galoshes and heart-patterned work gloves. After a hesitant pause, Yui dropped her eyes and ruffled her fingers over the ears of a large boar-hound that snarled at her feet, patting the animal's flank comfortingly as it bared its teeth at the intruder. "I guess I made that wager too soon." Yui said regretfully, kneeling at the tarp and starting to load armfuls of amaryllis and camellias onto Azula's lumbering wheel cart.

"Didn't think I would do your mundane peasant jobs?" Azula sneered, knowing full-well how the rest of the island saw her, like her father had sent her to the battlefront with a team of servants to clean her hair, massage her legs, and hand-feed her grapes as she tracked the enemies of the Fire Nation all over the continent. The way the world talked about her made it sound like her royal blood had made her invincible to the ordinary toils of military life, had saved her from sleepless nights as she tailed the Avatar, had sheltered her and kept her warm all on its own without her lifting a finger for herself.

Yui looked up, stating humorlessly, "Actually, I didn't think you  _could_  do mundane peasant jobs."

After returning, it was Azula's job to unpack the stall and lay out the plants, paper, ribbons, and buckets of water so that the old women could set up the displays and water the plant cradles just as villagers started trickling through the square. They told her that the grandmother was recovering from bunion surgery, and so Azula's trips would include shouldering the woman's weight on the cart as they traveled to and from the commercial district.

While Azula understood her new job was marginally better than digging a hole aimlessly on the side of the road until her body wasted away under the toils of her pointless labor, the princess similarly understood her likeness to that of a dog pulling at the end of a wagon, but withstood it all knowing it to be the bitter price of selling the visage of her newly adopted attitude and compliance. Working menial labor meant that her wounds would heal faster (her fused fractures had at last stopped aching) and being closer to the village meant a closer eye on the coming and goings of Fire Nation airships, and the chance to find the girl and the goons who had attacked her (Azula's blood thrumming in her temples when she recalled their faces, the shame that begged avenging burning in her mind.)

The women of Kyoshi Island had an insufferable habit of talking around everything and while the princess never heard so much as a direct complaint or order, she received it back in full through the supervising Kyoshi Warrior's day-end report. A Kyoshi Warrior stayed with her while she cleaned and worked the house alone. If it was Fumi, she stayed in the living room with a ledger in her lap, only poking in occasionally to make sure Azula wasn't doing anything she wasn't supposed to. Yui was worse, hovering with her from room to room (her captain's lieutenant in every sense, acting in body what Miyo would have liked in spirit) directing her from one chore to the next, prodding her when she was too slow and never hesitating to point out which sheets were supposed to go into which room, or the spot on the floor she had missed mopping. She learned that overt quarreling was unproductive; the more they sparred the more critical they grew of the quality of her work, the longer it took to finish, and the later she returned home. Azula quickly started to miss the simple ardors of gutter digging.

"Don't worry. You'll get the hang of everything." Emi had smiled encouragingly on her day as she took the mountain of blankets that she had skillfully folded in Azula's stead after watching the other girl simmer in frustration among the newly dried laundry that still had to be fluffed and put away before repairing the holes. The young warrior worked fastidiously and with a concentration that contravened her whimsical and childish demeanor. Emi was endlessly pleased to have found (imagined) approval in the form of someone that everyone else thought incomprehensible and impenetrable, like by being so it made Azula's favor worth more. Emi was also incredibly simple to use with the slightest remark that could have been taken as a compliment.

"It's nothing like that." The girl stammered with a smile when Azula told her that she had never seen anyone so efficient with peasant work. "I mean, it's easier to know how everything is supposed to be when you've lived here all your life. Later, I'll teach you my trick on how I get patches on socks real quick." She offered, bobbing her head encouragingly at the elbow of the jacket sleeve Azula was failing to mend, not noticing the startled look on the other girl's face as she glanced in startled horror from Emi to the pile of scandalous undergarments she had yet to fold. "Be right back, my grandmother just wants her arthritis medication." She announced, disappearing deeper into the house towards the direction of the old woman's voice, leaving the princess to sulk between the mountains of delicate linens and sagging lace.

"This is non-negotiable, Princess Azula." Miyo later impressed on her with her usual gravity, unamused at the princess' refusal to commit to her duties in doing anything as simple as pulling a cart or cleaning laundry. The building they were sitting in was crowded with warriors, all of whom had important tasks mysteriously close to the captain's office. Azula could see their forms moving through the frosted glass and hear their conspicuous shuffling of papers. "Need I remind you that the purpose of your rehabilitation is to serve Kyoshi Island's needy communities? I spoke to you about this before."

"I believe my job was to help rebuild this wasting filth." Azula congratulated herself after she blinked to mollify the disdain in her lifting eyes, and biting back a comment on how while comparable, Emi's house could not have matched the sum of Kyoshi Island. Learning to be polite to the peasants. If only Zuko could see her now. "I don't think dusting shelves is what my brother had in mind when he made this agreement." The princess replied, enunciating the last word with boundless generosity, stirring a pointed finger over Miyo's desk and the letters papering it from one edge to the other with the seals of various Earth Kingdom cities. It had been her third day and the second time a Kyoshi Warrior was made to drag the princess in front of the captain for a reprimand for breaking a pot, ruining a dress, refusing to attend to the outhouse, and now for the discovery of her blatant exploitation of Emi's obtuseness.

Tracing a line down the list of complaints she had impressively accrued, she brushed a trail of overgrown bangs behind her ear. "If you'll allow me some letters to the Fire Lord," They didn't allow her to own any of the newly printed books or receive newspapers that hadn't gone through redaction by the Kyoshi Warriors, much less allow her to send letters anywhere. "I'm sure we can reach a mutually beneficial disposition." Nonchalance was essential to these kinds of situations. She grimaced when she came to the end. "I  _don't_  scrub toilets."

Azula marveled at how fast Miyo's face erupted in scarlet. " _Non-negotiable_." The Kyoshi Warrior slammed her hand into the table, bellowing.

Unsuccessful bribery attempts aside, while Azula still pulled the cart with all of its burdens, but no one said anything when she didn't bother with the outhouse.

The villagers did most of their shopping on the weekends, so while the two old women alternated between operating the stall and making deliveries to restaurants and shops (preferring to pull the cart themselves rather than let her near customers) Azula was sent away to deal with the remaining chores. With nothing else to do (the merchants never gave her a fair price on the rare occasion that she found one that would talk to her) Azula went back to the house, where she swept the stone steps around the garden and split firewood for the night, eating lunch on the veranda from a box Ty Lee packed for her every morning.

"It's not like we orchestrated this. This isn't nepotism or anything." Suzu said to her today after Azula had returned from the market, watching the princess swipe a washcloth over a dresser.

The more Azula healed, the less she saw of Suzu, which only sought to incentivize her more whenever Ty Lee asked her to be mindful of her medicine regimen and sleep schedule. The medic however had the uniqueness in being the only person easier than Emi in getting to report exactly what Azula wanted to hear. "You're just lucky Emi is dumb enough to believe whatever Ty Lee tells her about you and Obachan is nice enough to have taken you on. The council was this close to sending you back to the Fire Nation and back to that armpit you call a hospital." She held her fingers pinched together like it was her own efforts that had kept Azula from the ill graces of the elders.

If the warriors were expecting her to be grateful of the fact that an old woman wanted a free maid and a babysitter for her imbecile granddaughter then they had another thing coming. The Kyoshi Warriors were very good at taking care of their own, Azula noted closely with an innocuous inquiry about Aya's disappearance. Suzu uncharacteristically didn't have anything more to say.

The resolute determination in which each of the warriors was keeping with Aya's manufactured alibi was less than surprising. Even so, it had been worthwhile for the princess to maintain her ruse of memory loss so that she could learn the loyalties of each squad member, only confirming what she already suspected that the team was made up of half-wits and children. Azula imagined that it was both mercy and mockery that Miyo was constantly kept in the dark by her subordinates. It was only at witnessing the captain's willingness to openly contravene the desires of her squad in the pursuit of their duties that Azula had begun to entertain the idea that Miyo could be any less underhanded than her compatriots. She might have pitied the girl for the impossible task of rehabilitating someone under the nebulous standards set by the Fire Lord and the Avatar's delegation, while placating the wounds of an injured country led a pack of senile farmers who in their entire lives never ventured outside their borders.

With Ty Lee's latest emotional crisis, Azula hadn't been in any rush to figure out how she wanted to deal with the Kyoshi Warriors. Ty Lee had a habit of collapsing anytime things never went the way she imagined, which wouldn't have been so repetitive if the other girl only learned to open her mouth when it mattered instead of filling the empty air with nonsense. Azula had thought that by now Wuhan would have proven that Azula had no wish to repeat their past as long as Ty Lee was forthcoming with whatever it was she wanted. It was getting to the point where Azula couldn't be near the other girl without her skin crawling, the blood rising in her face with each gesture or look Ty Lee sent her way that spoke of her yearning for the repair of their dissolute friendship. If Ty Lee thought that she could have followed up a string of contrived overtures with an outburst of repressed resentment and called it friendship, then Azula had been giving the girl too much credit. Every time Ty Lee took Azula's shoulder to point out seal-otters drifting on the morning horizon, or when their fingers brushed in the exchange of a teacup, or when Azula found herself in an ecstatic, grateful embrace (after releasing a weasel-mouse that had been cornered in a cupboard) it reminded her so sharply of their time during her imprisonment and disgust would inflame her anew. Yet if Azula had to put forward appearances of goodwill and friendship to get Ty Lee to leave her alone, then it was infinitely preferable to the incessant furtive glances punctuating the reigning awkwardness. Kyoshi Island necessitated a deeper level of subterfuge if she had any hopes of using Ty Lee to get off the island.

In due time, Aya would pay for her petty joke (whether Azula found the time now or later) and if she and the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors spent the meantime looking over their shoulder then all the better. Azula was going to get off this island, and all she had to do was wait. If there was anything she possessed in abundance, it was time.

In the evening Azula returned to the stall to roll up the awning, and toss out the molding water from the displays. The old woman refused to let her assist with the preparation of their meals (which was excellent foresight on their part, as Azula had on several occasions thought seriously about poisoning the lot of them) so Azula looked forward every day in arriving home before sundown. It took her another hour to pull the morning laundry from the clotheslines and haul enough water to fill the bath, carrying the buckets across her shoulders back and forth to the house. When it came to lighting the fires for the bath, she sat at the foot of the tub for an eternity, scraping a block of flint with the back of her kindling knife, waiting for the sparks to catch in the kindling. The more they faded the harder she scraped, her knuckles turning white in the glow that pulsed and ebbed with each dead attempt. This time wasn't any easier than her first, where she had flung the flint from her in frustration, stabbing the blade into the stove and kicking over the pile of firewood before Suzu stormed into the room and ordered her to put everything back the way it was or be dragged back to the guardhouse and forever remove any thought of living out her sentence in any place other than a damp, jailed hole in the wall. Mindful of the same girl overseeing her today, Azula waved her woven fan at the stove, watching the sparks flare and die, repeating the same pattern she had done so many times before of scraping and fanning, flaring and dying and finally, flaring. Relieved, her eyes watered from the smoke that wafted into her eyes from the fire she grew from her breath and a woven fan. It took a little while longer to see that the water heated slowly and evenly, waiting for thick tendrils of steam filming gently off the water surface and when the fire had burned down to embers, she lowered the wooden lid back onto the stone vessel and cleaned the remaining ash and soot from the stove. When she was done it left her fingers stinging from countless flares of heat that she had failed to coax into fire and her arms dusted in black up to her elbows.

While Azula washed herself at the kitchen, staring into the basin blankly, the aunt paused her turnip chopping and gave the princess an appreciative smile at her turned back, saying how before her well-needed arrival they hadn't been able to have such wonderful baths. Remembering the veritable lashing she had received from Miyo from the time she told Emi's aunt that it was any wonder why commoners bothered to clean the pigsties that they lived in, Azula had learned to curb her tongue. Chewing back a hot retort on her tongue, Azula replied by dipping her hands into the water and drenching her face.

The end of each day didn't feel any better than the day that came before, and she soon began to wish she could trade the mental exhaustion with the merely physical one that had previously been her sole concern. Her ribs itched under her skin and her hip was throbbing from walking and kneeling all day on the floor and in the dirt. The days were shortening and eventually she would need a lantern on her way home. For now she had the waning daylight to guide her from the horizon, and the glimmering lights from shops that winked at her from the storefronts and high verandas as she passed through the financial district. The village shone brilliantly here, beaconing over the harbor and gliding over the water like glass and the close of the work day (and the end of the harvest) meant that the young and leisurely were out in full strength, teams of farmhands and dockworkers looking to spend their money and off-duty warrior trainees looking to blow off steam. They ducked in and out of stores, disappearing and reappearing from behind the signage curtains of bars and eating pubs. The smell of roasting meats and simmering fish and kelp stocks floated over Azula as she passed a column of restaurants that lined the road, joining with the sounds of raucous laughter that erupted as she passed each entryway.

This wasn't the Kyoshi Island that her brother had landed on during the war, it wasn't even the island that Suki had champion under all the prefaces of reconciliatory compassion. The parts of the village that she had expected to find fire-gutted and ash-sodden had long since been repaired before she had been contracted into servitude. The lumber (that the Fire Nation had so precious few) and stone (from quarries they no longer possessed) Zuko sent in droves were put to the village's infrastructure and the expansion of town buildings and public works. Like she had warned (like her brother had planned) she had been hostaged for the benefit of a backwater country that was now climbing into prosperity on the backs of others. Kyoshi Island had wide roads, buildings so new they still smelled of cedar when she entered them. Oftentimes it felt like the only person who had thought everything through, had seen this to its only logical end, had been herself. The markets brimmed with produce and grain, merchants' supplies in perpetual abundance and endless villagers to purchase them, and for every second she had to watch Kyoshi Island flourish on money the Fire Nation didn't have, it was another she knew how much she needed to rejoin the world and to right its wrongs.

As she crossed a footbridge, a stream of children rushed by, clutching sticks of rice flour as they charged around her feet, screaming with laughter. A straggler was too late and collided with her knee.

"Watch it!" The princess snarled as the boy was kicked to the floor. His friends froze in place, looking at her fearfully, too shocked to help their friend as he scrambled to his knees and began to pat around, searching for his lost treat. It had landed near her foot and with a deliberate nudge, she pushed the dirt-crusted rice stick over the edge, hearing the satisfying plop as it fell into the water. "That's what you get when you don't watch where you're going." She said haughtily, side-stepping around him.

The boy looked distraught, meekly looking over the bridge where he had seen the stick disappear and back at the person responsible, his wide-eyes watering up at her.

"It was your fault you dropped it." Azula replied scathingly, uncaring of the villagers that were gathering and stood just outside of earshot as they whispered indiscreetly. "Maybe this will teach you some manners."

As she talked, the boy's face was quickly turning from red to purple, his tiny fists quivering. The crowd around them was beginning to look aghast and some of the people were openly pointing in her direction as he began to make a high-pitched noise.

Puffing his cheeks out, he glared at her with righteous indignation and taking a deep breath.

"Don't give me that." Azula warned.

* * *

Ty Lee was chopping vegetables and running them into a simmering pot on the stove with the edge of her knife when she heard the front door open.

"Welcome back!" She shouted over her shoulder, noting with slight anxiety that even if she had left the office early and while Azula was still later than she had expected, dinner wasn't as close to being ready as she had hoped. Sighing, she brushed unruly bangs from her face with the back of her hand, running a ladle through the stock pan. The princess could be incredibly impatient on particularly difficult days and from the sound of the girl's heavy steps, Ty Lee had a guess where today fell. Wiping her hands on her apron, she met Azula in the doorway with a smile, which quickly collapsed when she saw the girl's face.

"Azula?" Ty Lee cautioned when the princess nearly stumbled taking off her shoes, pitching the left one to the floor before pulling at the knots on her right. "How was your day?" Ty Lee asked, knowing better but unable to resist when the other girl made a sharp (yet obscure) comment about upstart Earth Kingdom brats and peasants who should have known when they were conquered. When Azula didn't elaborate, Ty Lee hesitated. "Did something happen?" She asked, knowing that something always did, whether it was an opportunistic merchant who thought Azula wouldn't know any better or someone who thought it would have been funny to upturn a basket of laundry into the river when the girl's back was turned. All accounts of which Ty Lee was free to peruse at her leisure with each complaint her squadmates filed on behalf of the villagers' at the office. She was certain Azula knew what her job with the squad entailed. Even so, going through Azula's files always felt strange, reading about things Azula never spoke about, watching the girl bear her days quietly with hardly a word about her day's assignments when she returned home.

She was realizing now that peace could be a capricious thing, with a habit of slipping just outside her grasp whenever was getting near. As elated as she was over Azula's tentative commitment back towards their friendship, it didn't change the fact that she had underestimated the most basic and obvious part of Kyoshi Island (that Azula had known all along, that Ty Lee had written off as overblown sense of persecution now starkly proven real.)

Ty Lee was coming to terms with the fact that the optimism that had been her stalwart motivation in bringing Azula out of Wuhan had started to die. She reminded herself that it was for this exact reason why today was so important.

"No." Azula replied. Ty Lee took comfort in the fact that a few weeks ago the princess would have stormed past her after throwing her work satchel at her. Today, Azula pulled a hand from where she had been fixing her hair where the knot of her hairscarf had tangled it. Her face pulled even, the lines of her anger easing away with such swiftness like she found Ty Lee's concern annoying and didn't want to aggravate it. "Nothing, just. Peasants should know their place." She muttered, making Ty Lee smile sadly, knowing full well that knowing their place was half the problem. Zuko may have stripped Azula of her title, but to the rest of the world, Azula would always be the Fire Nation's princess. "Is dinner ready?" Azula asked, walking past her into the house.

"Well, no." Ty Lee answered honestly, slightly perplexed when the other girl didn't seem to be upset or bothered by this. "But it will be soon. It's just a little longer than I expected."

"Really, Ty Lee." Azula sighed but not sounding like she was invested in the idea of dinner to begin with. "I'm gone the entire day."

"I know." The Kyoshi Warrior conceded, looking embarrassed. She had left early in the morning before work to do shopping ahead of time on top of her usual spare hours. It had taken considerably longer than she had anticipated in getting what she wanted made at the shop and had set her preparation back. "I heated the bath already. Why don't you clean up first, and I'll be done by then?" She suggested, taking the girls' bag, her suspicions confirmed when Azula looked at her with confusion but Ty Lee dodged any questions by disappearing back into the kitchen.

She left Azula's lunchbox soaking in the basin, going back to check on the stove and she waited for the sound of Azula's room curtain to open and close again and sound of the bathroom door sliding shut. Ty Lee found herself humming as she worked, finishing the last of the dishes as quickly as she could, and carrying the finished plates out and laying them in neat arrangement on the living room table. Her levity surprised herself; it had been so long since she had done anything spontaneous like she used to and working on her plans through the day reminded her of what it was like to put her worries from her mind and do something for her own enjoyment.

When all the plates were put out, Ty Lee went back to her bedroom, standing at her dresser as she warred with herself on the importance of timing, and wondered frantically if she should give it to Azula now or after, but eventually decided upon the latter, where she slipped the wooden box into her pocket and left again to anxiously await the girl's return. She wished powerfully for the party poppers that were so commonplace on the Fire Nation or at least the time to have made a banner.

When Azula eventually came back into the living room, toweling her hair, Ty Lee smiled from the table.

The princess's eyes darted from Ty Lee to the inordinate amount of food that had appeared at an instant.

"Happy birthday!" Ty Lee declared cheerily, standing up with her hands clapped excitedly.

Azula looked confused, which quickly collapsed from annoyance when she traced the days back in her mind and found that Ty Lee was correct. They stared at each other as Ty Lee wrung her hands, waiting awkwardly for the other girl to come to the inevitable and somewhat embarrassing conclusion that she had forgotten her own birthday. The knowledge that this never would have happened had Azula been at her best (had not been in the middle of serving out her sentence doing menial, servile labor) served to be all the more awkward for them both. "Oh."

"I know you've been distracted ever since you got out of Wuhan." Ty Lee explained unhelpfully, wondering if there was a stupider way for her to phrase what Azula had been through ever since she arrived on the island. Ever since they had left the Fire Nation, when Azula had taken Zuko's place to serve out his sins as well as her own, a banishment that had no end, not even a taste of false hope by which to preserve herself with. "I thought we could celebrate properly. I mean your birthday of course." She didn't dare mention freedom, or the the birthdays Ty Lee had missed, or the ones spent with with meager flimsy gifts like scraps of whatever the hospital had allowed her to bring Azula seemed all the more paltry in hindsight.

"Well the past ones we celebrated were all kind of," She failed to find an appropriate description. "Anyways, we have lots of birthdays to make up for."

"Time can get away from me." A brief grimace of begrudging aggravation flashed across Azula's face, gone so quickly that Ty Lee wouldn't have known that the princess had been offering an admission instead of an excuse.

Reaching to take the girl by the hand, she led her to the dinner table and gently encouraged her into taking a seat. "I made your favorites!" Or she had at least tried to. While she was very confident in her cooking, replicating the luxuriousness of the palaces' meals had been particularly difficult in a tiny kitchen and without the ingredients the Fire Nation was known for. This morning she had paid a handful of silver for a bag of peppers that were worth less than a few coppers back home. "The food at the hospital was great, I mean, I know the doctors made it to be nutritious and everything, but it always looked sort of." She grasped for the safest word she could find. "Bland."

"The rice porridge was good." Azula picked up the bowl of lotus and burdock soup resting at her elbow and lifted it to her lips.

"So, I know it's not great." Ty Lee leapt to explain when Azula exchanged the soup for the rice bowl and began to work her way through the delicate-looking vegetables that Ty Lee had spent so much time whittling into presentable, decorative form.

"I couldn't get a lot of the things I needed. Kyoshi Island's really small, and they don't eat as much meat. Everything comes from the ocean so substitutes are hard to find…" Her words petered out when Azula leveled her with a patient look that a couple of weeks ago could have been as severe as knives. "I know it's not the greatest birthday dinner."

"Ty Lee, I haven't had a birthday dinner since I was fourteen." Azula said with an astonishingly small amount of vexation.

Ty Lee smiled widely. "So it's good?"

Azula didn't meet her eyes, dabbing a piece of marbled yellowtail-tuna into a plate of soy sauce. "It's not hospital food."

They ate dinner the way they usually did, Ty Lee recounting the events of her day while unsuccessfully asking about Azula's, who only complained about the villagers and how Ty Lee had burned the rice at the bottom of the pot. It didn't bother the Kyoshi Warrior, who noticed that when they were cleaning the dishes that Azula had eaten all the food on her plates.

She waited for the table to my cleared before clearing her throat. "I have something for you." Pulling the gift out from her pocket and holding it delicately out. "It's not much, but it's better than candy, or trashy novels, or..."

"It's," Her face flushed furiously for a reason she couldn't fathom when their fingers brushed in the exchange of the (painstakingly) wrapped box. So far she had been so careful to not remind Azula of her old life in the palace and the person she had been. The gleam in Azula's eyes reflecting the hairpiece in her hand made Ty Lee instantly regret the chain of logic that had had compelled her to make the purchase. Of course Azula never wore her hair like she used to, she did so for a reason, and who was Ty Lee to dredge everything up like the princess could be bought with cheap gestures and trinkets. "So you can tie your hair up again. If you want."  _Stupid, stupid stupid._

Ty Lee had it made from polished wood, pale cypress inlaid with dark chestnut in sprawling, encircling patterns of intricately carved flowers that were so popular on the Earth Kingdom. For a second she was sure that Azula hated it, until golden eyes flicked up at her again.

"Well? Are you going to help?" Azula asked, holding the box towards her, expectantly, making Ty Lee veritably jump to agree and rush off into the depths of the house in search of the necessary tools.

They ended up in Ty Lee's bedroom, the princess sitting at the girl's dresser while Ty Lee stood at her back with a comb in one hand and the wooden ring in the other, working diligently as she took care to not pull or make any snags. Azula's hair was soft between her fingers, smelling like shampoo and bath salts as Ty Lee combed and divided it in her hands, parting it smoothly and lifting it up to gather under the hairpin. As she worked, Ty Lee was acutely aware that this was the closest Azula had allowed her in the longest time, and she fought with herself to not read anything into it that Azula wasn't yet ready to give. The princess might have voiced a willingness to restart their friendship but that didn't mean that she was willing to go back to how they used to be when they had been on Wuhan. Ty Lee took Azula's promise and her own seriously, comfortable with whatever pace Azula was felt like walking.

"Oh, it's perfect." Ty Lee realized, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Azula's hair had grown out so that the hairpin could only hold a part of the long tresses that gathered into the topknot, a cascade of ebony falling gracefully down her shoulders and over the metal collar. Azula's wounds had healed since the last time Suzu had visited them, her recovery remarkably speedy when Ty Lee thought of how little contact Azula had with the physicians who were assigned to her care. Once the princess had recovered enough to care for herself, the gruesome gashes in her face gently started to fade, due in no small part to the salve that Ty Lee had eventually convinced her to use. True to Ty Lee's prediction, there was hardly a mar on Azula's face anymore, with only the gap in her eyebrow existing to remind of her injuries. Azula's body had slowly lost its sharpness and her bones took on more muscle with every passing week, her skin having its sickly pallor under the sun, and Ty Lee almost said before the words disintegrated in her mouth, "Azula, you're beautiful."

It was this realization and not the compulsive flattery that struck Ty Lee dumb. They hadn't been friends a long time-their motions shallow and contrived, then mimicked in desperation in the haggard cells of a prison. But now they were entirely desolate, while they clung to each other's presence, they could barely stand to be reminded of what it had been like to have the luxury of pretending when now they were returning to square one.

Ty Lee had always complimented Azula's beauty before as endlessly and easily as she had complimented the other girl's genius and martial skill, her comments costing her nothing, and given with an easy recognition of when she was being prompted. Yet Azula had long stopped asking for assurances, while Ty Lee found that she had never lost her willingness to give them. It lent itself to the slow-culminating epiphany that what Ty Lee had continuously begged from Azula was a renewed friendship that she had since outgrown, and for all of her dizzying elation at Azula's recommitment, it was a friendship that she no longer wished for. It lent itself to a terror, a horrified realization that even at the basest forms of their relationship, while Ty Lee had always understood Azula's attractiveness, she had never before started to desire it.

 _Wait._  Her blood pounded in her ears as she dropped her hands from Azula's back, the moisture evaporating in her mouth, thin needles piercing the pit of her stomach she stood dumbly, listening to Azula say something about the style of the carving that she didn't care for. Ty Lee suddenly felt dizzy, like at last she was coming to rest and the blood was filling her head and making her sick, like she had been circling for ages around a truth that she couldn't see until now, like she had found something that she had lost.  _Not like this. Wait._

"It's impractical." Azula said, turning her chin to the side, inspecting herself in the mirror with aloof assessment, raising a hand to the neat topknot at the back of her head and trailing it down the the hair that spilled down her shoulders. "I can't wear this when I'm working."

"Oh. Yeah." Ty Lee responded distantly, her eyes dropping from Azula in the mirror. "I didn't think about that. I can bring it back and get you something better." Her hands closed over the ribbon she had used to wrap the box, leaving white bloodless lines across her skin.

Azula turned and gave Ty Lee that made the girl's throat tighten, withering her nerves, and rooting her to where she was standing and Ty Lee knew that somewhere she had messed up. She knew that she had done something that she wasn't supposed to, that she had shown something that Azula wasn't supposed to see. Before she could say anything, Azula had turned back around. "Did I say I wanted something else?"

Mortified (not knowing why) Ty Lee's mouth went shut with a click of her teeth and she shook her head.

The rest of the night went on uneventfully. After they cleaned up, Azula went to bed soon after, and Ty Lee went back to her room and stayed up at her desk, penning the last logs of the day and reviewing her lesson plans, waiting fruitlessly for exhaustion to take her. In the midnight stillness, she could faintly hear the other girl's slow breathing from the other room, growing deep and even. In the past, the sound of Azula sleeping would comfort her. She would sit with the girl in the hospital cell, and listen to her fall into a deep sleep before going home to the compound. Now, they were home, and there was nowhere to go, and it was her turn to lose sleep.

Ty Lee eventually went to bed just before light, turning restlessly under the covers, suffocating under the thrumming of her ribcage, willing her heart to calm. The songbirds outside were chirping by the time she eventually slipped to her dreams with the memory of Azula's perfumed hair, thinking about the last time she saw Mai who had offered tea and advice to someone that Ty Lee wouldn't recognize anymore. She remembered her old friend's words, preceding what had been a disastrous festival outing with Azula the following day. In her mind they had become a twisted amalgamation of both, deformed from a slow, crawling desperation (hope) now ignited with an errant, wild spark.

"She can't give you what you want." Mai stated soberly, handing her a cup of tea just before the pot was taken by a passerby. The festival attendants had swarmed into the palace from the city, taking armfuls of whatever they could grab from the table, absconding with platters of fruit and taking palmfuls from the suckling pig and shoveling the greasy meat into their mouths and pockets. The guards stood in the eaves, their faces shadowed by their helmets, and watching them all with impenetrable coldness.

Next to her, Azula picked up a plate of spice apples which she shared with a knowing, disconcerting smile that ignored Mai's words, and the revelers were patient just long enough for each of them to take a stick before the crowd descended upon the leftovers with an assenting nod from the princess. "You just haven't figured out what it is yet." Azula said, drawing closer, being mindful of the red syrup that stained her fingertips.

In her sleep Ty Lee remembered how clearly they had always understood each other (despite everything, through everything) and in the morning (haunted by the taste of candied apples on her tongue) she had already stopped wondering (wishing against so powerfully) why out of everyone it had to be Azula when she had all along known why it would never be anyone else. She had been walking around the keystone that had stared at her in the face, and the only thing that remained now was the simple fact that met her everyday when they rose with the dawn, watching the princess yawn sleepily as she climbed out of the curtains, shrug her work clothes on, grimace through her morning medicine, with all the careful and fond observance that Ty Lee dared to allow herself, knowing the vainness of her struggle, that this couldn't last, that there were larger things at stake than just the selfishness that rotted her from the core. At the very end, Ty Lee only wondered why it had to be now, wondered agonizingly why she couldn't have seen it anytime before (weeks ago, months ago, years ago, anytime before the night in the rain, the night on the road, Azula's injuries, Suki's promise, the summit, Wuhan, the chains, the war) wishing she could have known the very moment that she had changed, that her feelings had changed, wishing with each moment of tenderness shed in their close quarters that she could look at Azula without becoming so hopelessly ruined.


	19. Palace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't write these often but I have received enough questions in the past where I think it deserves clarification that while Memento Mori follows post-ATLA canon as closely as possible, it significantly deviates in several ways. This is more noticeable in the changes I've made to the governance of Kyoshi Island, and the organizational structure of Kyoshi Warriors and the Dai Li. The experiences of the Kyoshi Warriors (and other soldier groups) during the war are also rooted in canon, however extrapolated to their logical ends had the series not been bound by the constraints of its genre.
> 
> If you have been following me until now thank you for your patience. For the last few years I've been away at school, which has decreased my writing output dramatically to about one chapter a year. This will continue until my graduation this coming spring and pending the results of my hard work after summer. It's my hope that I can come back up to speed soon after that. Until then thank you again for reading.

Azula had grown used to waking up before the sun was in the sky. Her body no longer complained when she woke in the morning, her palms grew thick and calloused, and the skin of her hands no longer split in the cold wind.

Her recovery eventually outpaced how busy her tasks at Emi's house could keep her, but although her body had healed, the villagers never returned her to her previous job paving the village roads. The village council had been content, instead, to rent her out to various jobs that the village found wanting, each subsequent task as unrelated to the one that preceded it. Yet after months of endless monotony in scrubbing laundry and bathrooms, she was happy to take whatever assignment so long as she could be left alone. She found that as long as her jobs were finished according to the village's calendar that the Kyoshi Warrior who followed her cared very little of how she went about it and there was a certain value in having the discretion to walk through the island on her own accord.

She learned the vices and weaknesses of each of her guards in turn. While Miyo was ever-unyielding, she could manage to get Emi to give her a spare newspaper or Suzu would let slip what the villagers had been gossiping about or Yui would grumble about the time it was taking for Suki to return from the mainland. Azula played to their weaknesses equally, eager to find what she could about the island's relations with the Fire Nation, hungering for any news of home.

More often than not she would sit on the beach, her fingers sifted through the grains of sand under a vast, gray expanse, as she watched the rainclouds rolling in from the sea. Her time at the hospital had made her claustrophobic and she had found that she couldn't stand to be inside the confines of walls for longer than she could stomach it (the windows thrown wide open, her own bed pushed as close to them as health allowed.) Kyoshi Island neither lacked for pastoral scenes, and she developed a hobby of watching the sunrise from wherever part of the island she was, watching the veil of the sun pull away the night, her skin prickling with warmth. She didn't think until recently that she had ever bothered to watch a sunrise and she had yet to stop being surprised at how empty Wuhan (and all of its entailments) had made her. She watched the patterns of migrating birds, the rolling waves, the wavering treetops of the forest.

Winter was hard coming to Kyoshi Island. The polar winds had already brought the first waves of snowfalls, and much of her time was taken in repairing holes and reinforcing the thick thatches of the village's roofs. It was harder to work in the mornings now, when the hours were the darkest before the sun, and the air still smelled like the remnants of the night's fog. Yet with nothing to do (even with no end in sight) she worked tirelessly, pushing her body beyond what her physician had until then thought her capable of. It was as if her entire time on Wuhan had been spent in slumber and now she couldn't bear to be at rest long enough to think. About Zuko, about her father, about the person she had been (left behind) and now was (left behind.)

"You sure learn quick, Azula." Emi let out a low whistle as she admired Azula's work in favorable inspection, patting the thick weaves in search of a non-existent abscess. "Thatching a roof isn't as easy as people think."

"It's not as hard as people make it to be." The princess replied as she ran her hand over the tied bundles, trimming the ends of the straw with a pair of shears. She had started patching the hole in the silo the previous morning and had finished ahead of her week's schedule.

The villagers had begun their preparations for the coming snowfalls and when Azula wasn't repairing holes in the ceilings of people's houses, she was mending the fishermen's nets and culling lumber from the foothills with the woodcutters. While before Miyo had been careful to keep her within the gaze of the common passer-by, every job given to her now took place at their shoulders.

They tolerated her with the barest patience, pointing her to whatever task needed to be done, and punishing her when it wasn't finished to their standards. Every now and then this took the form of a decrease in her entitled stipend, but more commonly she was forced to work longer shifts and stay longer after every worker had gone, toiling in the dark with no one but a lone Kyoshi Warrior to hold a lantern. She learned to be meticulous. When it was Emi who guarded her, Azula could at least count on her earnestness. Despite Miyo's new policies, Azula wasn't willing to unlearn the lessons Aya had been so eager to teach. The village children still alternated between gawking at her and throwing stones at her back.

A harsh wind from the sea drove over the rooftops and Azula ducked under her coat collar, reaching a hand up and curling a finger against one of the studs buried near a nerve in her neck to push it away from her skin. The alloy so far had been merciful in keeping from rusting, but was equally unforgiving in how well it held the temperature. As the weather marched steadily into winter, the more problematic it was to work steadily with a brace of ice around her neck. Since the morning, she had already sent Emi away twice to fetch hot water.

"This is barely as cold as it's gonna get. We have two months until then and that's going to last another two more-oh I wouldn't if I were you." Emi cautioned helpfully as she watched Azula climb down from the roof onto the scaffolding to inspect the thick porridge that sat chilling from the workers' fire. While the rest of the builders customarily took their meals together, the leftovers were given to Azula to do with however she pleased and the princess quickly understood why Ty Lee was insistent that she take a boxed lunch every day.

Azula lifted the ladle from the pot and watched as a thin film of mucous descended back into the vessel in a stringy webuous line. She had anticipated as much, but had yet to stop wishing.

"You know if you can wait off a little bit we can probably have our lunch inside at the training hall. Or if you want, I can ask Miyo since you finished early" Emi offered. It was the villagers hope that the last of the early winter rains would abate long enough for the builders to finish their patchwork but she could still smell the storm that was waiting to make landfall. She inspected the grey sky dubiously and looked back to the princess who was presently fighting off a sneezing fit. "Seriously," Emi insisted.

"As much as your concern touches me, I'll decline." Azula said, gathering the last of the unused straw and wrapping it in canvas, tying it together with the stock wood with a thick rope.

"Ty Lee's teaching a seminar today." Emi offered spontaneously when she peeked her head over the edge of the railing with a wide smile. Azula knew where this conversation was leading.

"That's nice." Azula replied blandly. The entirety of the bundles of straw tied together had to be carried across her shoulders as she made the descent on a series of rickety ladders, laid end to end from the scaffold to the ground in a precarious angle.

"Don't you want to see how good she's got?" Emi goaded. Given Ty Lee's pool of practice partners, Azula found the prospect highly unlikely.

"No." Azula barked as she walked off without looking back, her boots trudging through the mud as her unwieldy burden pressed her into the wet earth with each step.

Emi's baits were unsophisticated and Azula had no patience to entertain them at the moment. She couldn't see the good that could come by barging into Ty Lee's workplace, whether to spend a lunch hour together or not. They had no common interests (Azula  _despised_  the warriors) and they wouldn't have anything to talk about. Their time together in the cottage was regulated to evenings and early mornings, and their conversations related to tedious talk about the village, or the weather, or housework. Even the once steady stream of banal chatting Ty Lee conjured to fill the empty air between them had started to wane.

Lately, Ty Lee was withdrawn and bordered on forlorn. In the beginning, Azula attributed it to one of the girl's childish moods, but was disappointed that when pressed, Ty Lee didn't volunteer anything beyond her usual triteness and empty banter. For the time being, Azula was happy to give Ty Lee space but the feeling of sudden guilt persisted.

It had occurred to the princess that forbidding Ty Lee from writing Mai had been done out of misplaced anger and hastily made (what more harm could her brother do to her after all). Had Ty Lee still been writing letters, Azula might have felt better, taken some solace from the fact that Ty Lee could have, at least, been confiding in someone (anyone).

Although in time she had learned the depths of Ty Lee's gratitude for the generosity of the Earth Kingdom in allowing her to start a new life, Azula was never sure whether Ty Lee actually liked being with the Kyoshi Warriors themselves. While it was clear that Ty Lee enjoyed her work, her impression was never that of one who spent a moment of time with her comrades beyond what was necessary. Her conversations with Emi had been illuminating and from them Azula was able to glean a picture of Ty Lee's life that had so far eluded her.

Perhaps in keeping with their shared promise of new beginnings, Ty Lee had always careful to keep Azula and her work separate and what little Azula knew of Ty Lee's capacity with her squad was regulated to the moments she would see the girl returning late in the evening, worn from a day's worth of stress running haggard in a bureaucratic office.

For all of Emi's motions of friendship, the young girl herself was careful to not spend time with Ty Lee in front of the other warriors. It didn't help Azula's dismal opinion of Emi, knowing that with Suki nowhere to be found, the only gestures of goodwill Ty Lee received came from an insincere dimwit. Ty Lee, in her never-ending search for security (for acceptance), largely made friends with those who were just like herself, down to every minute speck of spineless unaccountability.

 _But she's trying her best and you've been lying._  Azula thought to herself. The prospect that Ty Lee had unraveled her was a repeating lance of paranoia through the pit of her stomach. Lately, she had been unable to escape the persistence of her fears, that all her false motions of friendship that had been contrived for the sake of plying Ty Lee's into false security had been exposed for what they were. That Ty Lee had found she had been trading false gifts that she remained the incurable liar.

Her birthday had been a genuine surprise, if not entirely for the fact that for the past couple of months it had been harder to keep her days straight. In all of the errands Azula was sent on to the market, she was never able to get a cabbage for less than a half-silver and yet Ty Lee had presented her with a tableful of luxuries as a gift, a fortune for a hard-fought measly gathering, and in return had looked for nothing except for a hint that Azula had been pleased.

If punishment meant pain, nothing had ever humbled her as much as Ty Lee's smile.

It had taken a long time before Azula was confronted with the uncomfortable discovery that while in Wuhan she might have prayed for Ty Lee to suffer the full consequences of her treason, she was never able to envision what that punishment would have looked like. In the months since her arrival on the island, that desire had waned, replaced by the full understanding of what Ty Lee's life had been like in their years apart. There were no circuses (no dreams) in Kyoshi Island, nothing bright or hopeful, and for all of the possible ways Azula had wished for Ty Lee's destruction, this was not the end she had wanted for her.

"Finished that early huh?" The foreman looked up from his clipboard, where he stood counting the lots of lumber and and straw, grunting approvingly as he watched her. He was a balding, middle-aged man whose eyes were hidden under a pair of black bushy eyebrows and spoke with a booming voice that was somehow never dampened by his thick beard.

Azula dropped the remaining bundle of straw and wood onto the waiting plot at his feet, shaking sawdust-flecked mud from the length of her apron.

"How does it look?" He asked amicably, tucking his pencil behind his ear as he came over to inspect the leftovers of her morning's work.

"How it's supposed to." She replied defensively, pulling her thick gloves off with her teeth. She had replicated the exact process that had been demonstrated to her over and over again on a dozen houses, doing exactly as she was instructed and found no reason to deviate for the sake of creativity and giving them room to complain.

Apparently the answer didn't satisfy him, and he frowned at her from beneath his thick bushy beard. "You should reflect on the work you've done." She could tell from his tone that he believed everything that he was saying, and that he felt that he was imparting a piece of great wisdom he had unearthed through years of working at a lumber yard.

"It's different than digging roads. When you build something, when you make things, it's good for your soul. The stonecutters will tell you the same thing if you ask them. When you finish reinforcing the seawall you'll understand that the pride you put into your work has payoffs for the people around you. Even with all the gifts from the Fire Nation coming in, the island is in no less of a need for hard work."

Azula clapped the ledger shut, slipping the pen back into its inkwell, and replaced the book with the other logs on the shelf. "As much as I enjoy your words of wisdom I really should be going." Even if she had no choice in the matter, she had no interest in being lectured on the virtues of servitude by the villagers who had taken a twisted sense of pity to her. She had gradually found that the stories of the war coupled with her relative youth had inspired equal amounts of misplaced and perverted sympathy as it did disgust in the villagers.

She retrieved her pack, closing her locker and walking out of the office again without a backward glance to his fierce expression.

Outside, Emi was waiting for her, having already gathered the rest of Azula's tools and falling quickly in step with her. On some days Azula felt that in Emi she wasn't given a guard so much as an underfoot tagalong. It occurred to her frequently that should she ever decide to, overpowering Emi would have been all too easy. But she supposed that was the reason why her tasks everyday carried her deeper into the heart of the village, where her presence stuck out like a sore thumb, where the eye of every spare person was trained on her.

There was no fun in easy fights anyways, she told herself.

Even so, escape often came to mind. Despite the safeguards of the Kyoshi Warriors, Azula had pieced together three actionable avenues and despite herself she frequently thought about what it would be like to actually carry them out, to pull herself out from under the thumb of the Earth Kingdom peasantry, to rejoin the world and to see it in all of its entirety of what is had become in her absence (and not the fragments she was able to pull together from the newspapers and scraps of gossip from the fishmongers and the tradesmen from Ba Sing Se of the life that had changed for the people in the Earth Kingdom and abroad.) She had, of course, dreamed of returning home sometimes (when she was careless and cruel enough to herself to venture into wild fantasies) although she knew that it wouldn't be the same as she remembered it (the same way in that she hadn't recognize it in the festival, dilapidated and wasting, a shadow lost between shifting frames where she blinks twice and is in two places at once and her father is waiting for her beneath the shade of the elm tree whispering into her ear that kingdoms don't wait, they are built on the ashes of those that are razed.) And yet the kingdom she knows is gone, and all those that served her and her father are dead, their skeletons hung in gallows as examples, their rotting heads looking down on her from their hooks as their hollow breathless mouths wrapped around her name, the name that was given to her by blood and legacy, Azula, Azula, Azula, Azula until she woke up from her dreams with her own mouth frozen open in a scream and she is reminded that there is no one in the world who remembers her. She could run as far as she wanted to and still wouldn't be able to escape the world.

And yet she still had the one person who had been beside her all along.

"He wants you on the team building the rowhouses." Emi had an exuberant and sandy voice that had the astounding, perpetual quality of sounding like she was an adolescent male on the verge of breaking into maturity. "You learn  _really_  fast and he thinks if you're there then we can have more people repairing the boats." Emi explained. Fishing was the livelihood of the islanders in winter and once the season turned, all free efforts went in support of the industry. Despite assurances from Emi that she would not be drafted into the frigid ocean to help drag the laden nets in from the boats, Azula was less certain from the way her duties were being freely handed out that such a promise would be kept.

A pair of old women were huddled outside of the training yard, vigorously discussing the activities of the Kyoshi Warriors trading blows in padded gloves. Watching their movements reminded Azula of Ty Lee, and how long it had been since she had seen her doing anything that didn't involve sitting at her study filling paperwork or shuffling around the house in her apron and a broom and it occurred to Azula that Emi had a point sometimes. For all the the time they now spent together, Azula had trouble thinking of Ty Lee as anyone except for a girl now grown (as she was), resplendent in the failings of a new era, cheated by promises made at the bottom of a prison by would-be friends who had nothing to lose.

 _And who put you in that prison?_  Her father's voice innotated low in her ear and all of her efforts couldn't have shut him out. In the morning she would drink the medicine to is last dregs, her throat threatening to rebel with every drop that slithered down her throat, and know that for the rest of her life there would be nothing that could have lessened her burden, that could have strengthened her resolve into believing that this wasn't her greatest weakness.

"How about getting tea at my house then? I can put a kettle on the stove and we can have lunch there. I think my aunt still has some red bean cakes. The ones with the pancakes?" Emi said, cupping her hands together in the shape of a clam.

Azula admitted the prospect sounded enticing after that morning slogging through the cold wind and the knowledge that her work detail in the afternoon included hauling stones up to the merchant quarter to help lay the foundation on another warehouse. After spending the past month finishing her assignment working for Emi's grandmother, Azula had found it easier to visit their house on her own terms whenever the young Kyoshi Warrior prompted her with an invite. The family matriarch had formerly served on the village council and so it seemed like Emi's house was never lacking leftover favors or gifts from esteemed villagers.

"Only if we don't play Pai Sho again." While it had been entertaining at first, Azula was tired of teaching board game tactics whenever Emi found a spare moment in their time. Even though the girl was improving, she was still leagues away in skill and also a very sore loser. Azula was tired of having to put up with Emi's childish antics after ever every defeat.

"I'll trade you the newspaper." Emi offered without missing a beat, clenching a fist in victory when Azula half-heartedly accepted.

They were back on the road to Emi's house, passing a row of bakeries when Emi eventually said what Azula had been waiting for her to say.

"So..." Emi had the subtlety of a hammer. "I heard I missed your birthday."

"Here it comes." Azula declared.

"You should have said something!" The younger girl protested.

"Oh? And what were you doing to get me?" Azula deadpanned. "An especially impressive-looking sea urchin? No thanks." She made a derisive sound. Emi was very proud working as a free diver, spending her mornings selling the shellfish and kelp she pulled off the seafloor for a handful of coppers, and never skipped a chance to discuss the finer points of the profession and all of its advantageous accompaniments. It often drove Azula to exasperation, who had yet to discover the novelty Kyoshi Islands' peasants took in their schedules, their obsession with the meticulous details of their unremarkable lives. "Besides, isn't it unprofessional for you to be giving gifts to the prisoner?" Azula didn't imagine that Miyo approved of much of Emi's behavior, but she didn't imagine that Miyo knew much of what her any of her squad was doing.

"I don't care, I would have gotten you a whole bunch of urchins!" Emi exclaimed before she launched into a long-drawn discussion of the best methods of preparing sea urchins, interspersed with the occasional rhetorical question of whether Azula had ever had an urchin or a scallop from the waters of the island's bay cut fresh from the shell and still-foaming from the ocean waves and wasn't that the best feeling in the whole wide world. But Azula was already a million leagues away, thinking about that night, and the blush on Ty Lee's face as their eyes met in the mirror.

"Suki said you're gonna be here for a really long time and it doesn't make sense to keep you away from everyone. You're not gonna be a prisoner forever." Emi shrugged when they passed by a group of teenagers, who skulked away without replying to the young girl's enthusiastic wave.

"And what does Miyo think about that?'

Emi sighed. "Between you and me, no one really cares about what Miyo thinks. She lives in the stone ages."

Azula thought about Miyo's declining favor with the warriors for a moment before reconsidering how her own situation would have benefited more if only she had not antagonized Suki at the Mid-Summer Festival. "Will I be allowed to go back to the Fire Nation?"

"No, but-"

"Then everything remains pretty much the same." Azula replied.

It used to be that when Azula thought of returning home she thought about something more specific beyond the smell of the evening fire when she returned from work, Ty Lee's slow, warm smile when she looked up from her desk, and the moments of quiet that overtook them that had grown so soft when she wasn't looking until at last it had started to feel less like a tenuous truce and more like . The things she had pretended (a newfound promise of change, of renewed sincerity to earn Ty Lee's friendship while she had been waiting, hoping for a weakness, a gap in the weaves of Ty Lee's armor) were motions she had, from the outset, pretended. Yet for all of her self-awareness it had crept beneath her as surely and unassumingly as though she had none. She had lost a sense of urgency, the powerful drive for self-preservation that had anchored her for so long and the belief that as long as she could have weathered the insanity of Kyoshi Island that there was something waiting for her. That all of her patience and suffering could have amounted for something. In its place, she found herself grasping, feeling uselessly around in the dark for a new sense of purpose in the wake that there was nothing waiting for her at all.

It was four years since they had dragged her dragged from the city and after all that time it was hard to know what revenge was supposed to look like. When she thought of the palace she thought of the light of the hearth of Ty Lee's cottage and the warmth that shivered through her spine when Ty Lee took her hands and massaged the day's work from her wrists. She thought of the way Ty Lee's face looked in the glow of the evening fire.

Azula had a recurring dream sometimes, of lying on the ground, a woman weeping as she cradled her and smoothed blood from her mouth and face, telling her to live.

_I'm forgetting things that I used to know. Why can't I remember?_

"Do you not like Kyoshi Island, Azula?" Emi asked, kicking a stray pebble as she walked, her eyes chasing the rock as it skittered and bounced on the road.

Azula would have laughed in her face if she thought that Emi's goodwill wasn't something she needed. "One generally doesn't fear for their own lives in their homes."

"Right." Emi's eyes flickered to the thin scar on Azula's eyebrow long enough for Azula to notice and be reminded yet again that Emi was much smarter than the others would have credited her. The girl had her uses but Azula didn't trust that vapid smile farther than she could throw the girl. "Only I meant, if you liked it enough. Ty Lee loved Kyoshi Island when she first came here. Even if her feelings have changed."

Walking up the slope of the road, they had come upon the crest of the hill, and she was thinking back to the time she had last been here with Ty Lee, remembering the first sight of the ocean when the warriors had marched her through village. Azula couldn't think back to a time before coming to the island when she had ever cared about Ty Lee's opinion of her. It made her anxious, as if she was waiting for something to happen.

"Ty Lee's been very...kind." Azula said, rolling her eyes when Emi nodded approvingly.

Of course, she was indebted to the appearance of normalcy that Ty Lee tried to fit into the artificial arrangement of their days. Routine benefited her; Azula could pretend like there was nothing wrong with skinning potatoes and that she had been doing laundry her entire life. On clear days they watched the sky together as she listened to Ty Lee make up pictures in the clouds or the stars. On good days, Azula allowed herself to revel in her freedom. While she begrudged the opinion of the village physician, it seemed that the more she maintained her regimen the easier it was to maintain her effervescent hold on time. Time, that she had previously lost, that had slipped through her fingers as she climbed out of the wretched crevices of her own mind and found that she couldn't find the difference between what had happened two days or two months ago.

She had told Ty Lee once that kindness didn't come without a price, that in the end, even the most benign gestures came with debts that would eventually want claiming. She had asked Ty Lee for her own price (appalled and repulsed as the other girl's reaction had been) but still all the same found herself without an answer, even now she grasped for the cause of all that incomprehensible altruism, asking why when she had tried to force it from Ty Lee in their youth that it had slipped underneath her grasp and now when she had nothing to her name that it had come back, meek and eager.

Ty Lee's affections made her restless. It troubled Azula knowing that after all they had been through, she desperately wanted to keep them.

Whenever she thought she had the other girl figured out, something happened to show how little she actually knew about the person Ty Lee had become. It was tempting to accept that (in the grandest scheme of things) her life was the largest blessing the new world could have given her. And yet it felt too much like giving up. On accepting a defeat by which she had pledged to die under before she succumbed. All things she wasn't ready for.

* * *

Miyo was late.

Miyo was never late, and the sounds of the practice hall downstairs echoing through the building signaled that afternoon practice was already underway when there had to have been an officer to lead it.

Ty Lee wondered if she had been stood up. As the officer in charge of Azula's welfare, she thought that a well-worded complaint would have been enough to pique Miyo's concerns. They were friends after all, even if they had been having the occasional spat.

But perhaps there was something more to it than that.

Miyo had fiercely disputed Azula's change in residence, and so Ty Lee imagined that her proposal would go over well without deep askance, although, perhaps, not without her mea culpas. She had been rehearsing what she planned on saying, imagining the different questions she thought Miyo would prod her with, why, why now, why after everything.

The week had not been kind to Ty Lee. Since Azula's birthday, Ty Lee had done anything she could get her hands on to be perpetually busy. Where she had previously done her paperwork at home so as to spend as much time with Azula as she could, she now elected to spend more hours of her evening at the office, toiling when all the others had retired as if in all of her great effort she could have solved her most monumental problem as long as she gave herself enough time, as if everything could have solved itself as long as she didn't dwell on it.

Gales of wind screamed tumultuously outside, incessant now in the worsening weather, rattling the shutters and whistling through their loose seams. Leaving the table to secure their locks, she glanced outside to find that there was no sign of Miyo. A pack of laborers was driving a cart of stones marched tiresomely through the road and Ty Lee watched their progress with mild interest, reminding herself to find Azula a suitable scarf before the start of winter.

Places could change people. Ty Lee had known that more than anyone. In the Earth Kingdom she had felt reborn, in the same way that she knew Azula would (in the same way that Azula had, strong and youthful, pensive and mourning, still the same, now wholly different.)

She couldn't have loved the person Azula had been in the war. But of the person Azula had become now, Ty Lee couldn't have said the same.

If love was life, Ty Lee had been dying.

She had doomed herself in bits and pieces. Her love had flowered beneath her, sprouted with reckless abandon, seeded by the parts of Azula that Ty Lee had mourned and ached so painfully to discover again, burgeoning and renewed. And yet so much of it was a curse (with everything at stake, with her honesty to prove, when Azula had no one else to turn to, when all Azula would surely see was that her friendship was false again, cloaked with illicit, perverse intentions.)

One evening she had come home to the sight of Azula sitting on the veranda, the length of an interior door laid before her, stripped of its panels. A jar of glue, a roll of thick paper, and a thin knife rested near her.

Noticing Ty Lee's return from the corner of her eye, Azula held the door aloft and tilted its face to demonstrate the worn holes peppering the door's body.

"I borrowed some paper sheeting from Emi's house. You have a lot of broken panels." She explained without looking up, her fingers running down the sides of the lattice frame, taking a pencil and ticking off measurements as she worked. "The peasants live in better houses than we do." She said humorlessly, retracing her etchings with the knife.

It had never occurred to Ty Lee that Azula would find use in the skills she was taught by the peasants. She had carried an even smaller hope that Azula would eventually fit into the space the Kyoshi Warriors had carved for her. And Ty Lee wondered where her gift for survival had gotten her, what all her talents had given her except misery and the constant reminder that there wasn't any more to her life other than what she had already lived when she was a young girl. It was a general rule that people's lives grew deeper, grew rich, as they grew older. Ty Lee wouldn't know. Ty Lee had, in fact, been content on living her entire life exactly as what she was.

But in that moment, Ty Lee was stunned, standing at the entrance of her house as if a mirage had taken hold in her home, a miracle stretching beyond the limits of her wildest dreams. If her belief in gods and spirits had failed she dared to believe in them again in the faintest parts of her heart.

In time, Ty Lee had started to read Azula with the same initiative the other girl had beseeched her to pry others with. Azula's relentless stubbornness and tenacity notwithstanding, her father's defeat had etched a softness that Ty Lee was continually surprised (bittersweet) to find. She could see Azula's desires as easily as if they were her own and how Azula longed to return home to the Fire Nation. Inwardly, Ty Lee also dreamed one day Azula's imprisonment would end and Zuko (and Mai) would welcome his sister back into the palace.

Even more clearly, Ty Lee could see that none of those desires had anything to do with her. She continually smothered the fleeting wisp of hope that threatened to devour her whole, knowing that it would only rise again elsewhere, treacherous and beguiling. She had read into every fleeting glance, every conversation, divining intentions that weren't there, haunted by the thought that an errant touch could have meant even an iota more than what it was. Ty Lee was left to a fate of deciding between crueler consequences, that Azula should scorn her feelings, or that desperately left with no one else in the world, Azula should depravedly return them.

She had not been completely opaque. Azula had read her, once, without meaning to.

For all of her reasonings none of it seemed to matter when she needed it most, when all of her strength would fail her even in the smallest moments, when all it took from Azula was one look or gesture and those reasons that she agonized over for the entirety of her day evaporated, shimmering in a heat growing bright.

Last night, Ty Lee had fallen asleep at her desk and in the morning she found a blanket draped over her back and a fresh stack of wood next to the fire. In place of Azula's usual kettle of medicine was a steaming pot of tea, and the table had a plate of bread and ham and a note requesting that if Ty Lee wasn't going to bother sleeping in her bed that she at least put out the candles so as to not to kill them all in the middle of the night.

The last part made her smile as she imagined Azula peeking into her room and frowning before putting out the lights. She wondered if Azula debated dropping a stack of files over her shoulders before deciding on a blanket from the nearby bed. She wondered if Azula thought for a second about carrying her to it.

It felt silly pining over some hastily written letter Azula had made in the small hours of the morning, but she thought about it all day, contemplating why out of all the gifts showered on her by ex-boyfriends and lovers in her past that none of them had ever made her feel the same way Azula made her feel.

She had put off the truth for as long as she could, that the more she ignored her love for Azula the more it would grow.

"Sorry I'm late." A voice accompanied the sound of the door opening, pulling Ty Lee away from the window as she hastened to erase any trace of her thoughts that might have been showing on her face.

Ty Lee was fully aware that it was taking longer than necessary to reply, her stomach plummeting to the floor as she begrudged her doomed position as the scorned turncoat of the squad-made an officer purely from the necessity of her skills-forever alienated from the circles of trust that could have saved her, that could have warned her of Suki's homecoming. "Oh, you're back." She managed not to sound strangled.

Suki let out an incredulous laugh. "Is that all I get?"

"No-I mean. I mean, it's just such a surprise." They met together in a hug. Suki clapped her warmly on the back as they parted and by then Ty Lee had remembered her role again.

Stepping back, she could see that Suki looked different than she had upon her departure. When she left for the mainland, Suki had been haggard, exhausted from fights with the village council and her preparations with Aang. Now returned, Suki was bright-eyed, spirited and looked more like the leader she was known to be.

Ty Lee had the strangest sense of dissociation, wondering what Suki saw in her now that they stood looking at each other, of powerful envy in wishing that she could have the same powers of relentless endurance and fortitude of character all natives Earth Kingdom seemed to possess.

She took a deep breath, disguising it as a dramatic and wistful sigh. "I'm so glad. It's been forever."

She told herself that Suki's reassumption of her duties didn't matter. Whether it had been Miyo or Suki, her circumstances hadn't changed, and neither had the necessity of what she had come here to do. Yet, facing the person who had made Azula's freedom a reality made the burden of her decision that much harder.

"Hasn't it?" Suki groaned. "I took the last airship out. With everything between Ba Sing Se, all I've wanted to do this whole time was to go home and sleep in my own bed."

They moved to the desk, taking opposite chairs, with Suki pushing aside the stack of files that had been Miyo's. "You weren't in the Earth Kingdom?" Ty Lee asked curiously. She wondered how far from the circle the squad had really left her.

"Up until a week ago. Zuko asked me to visit." The way Suki spoke told that whatever visit it was hadn't been a comfortable one. "He thinks Azula had been attacked by an assassin from Ba Sing Se. I told him that was impossible with how tightly leashed King Kuei has his ministries right now but he wasn't convinced."

But it wasn't an outrageous notion. If it had been her sitting so far across the ocean, Ty Lee was certain she would have had the same fears.

"Miyo and I thought maybe it could have been someone from the village." Ty Lee said vaguely, not daring to reveal her suspicions. With Suki, Ty Lee was confident that her opinions could amount to some weight, but without basis in evidence, she had no way of speaking freely without risking her words coming back to bite her. Suki's objectivity was already a returned blessing.

"I thought the same. But I couldn't exactly say we couldn't protect her from our own people." Suki stated grimly.

The captain reached under the neck of her clothes, pulling a long thin chain over her head that she held out to the other girl. There was no mistaking it. Ty Lee had only seen that key once before in her life, years ago. When she picked it up she was surprised (stunned) by how light it was, how small it was in her hand. Ty Lee wondered how strange it was that something so delicate could hold the power to release something to vital to someone's personage.

When she was a child, Azula had manipulated her power as skillfully and easily as she breathed. Ty Lee wondered if Azula had forgotten the feeling, if the girl feared the lapse of its memory, the brilliance that had been her hallmark.

Ty Lee returned the key quickly.

"Zuko asked me to return Azula's firebending. At first, I refused him." Suki said gravely, putting the chain on again, the weariness of her tone saying just how often she had been forced to debate the topic, waving her hand in submissive deference. "But we agreed your opinion is the most important."

Ty Lee was hesitant. As much as she wanted to be happy for Zuko's change of heart, there was something to its timing that prevented her from taking the gesture on face value. The aftermath of the Four Nations' Summit still stung and made her distrustful. Far from the hot-headed boy she had known, Zuko was fast-growing into the Fire Lord his people needed. "Why now?" When they had agreed to seal away Azula's bending, Zuko had been altogether emphatic and had maintained that position until Azula's departure to Kyoshi Island. If anything about the political climate had changed, it made Ty Lee anxious that she couldn't see it.

"If the attack really was an assassination attempt, Zuko doubts our ability to protect Azula and I couldn't argue with him in good faith. I know you have a better perspective than I did at the time." Suki's eyes were earnest and Ty Lee had a hard time not imagining how easily Suki's attitude would change, how fast her understanding would slough into outrage. "I told him that with you there he had nothing to worry about. It was a mistake not keeping Azula with you to begin with, so until we figure this out we should keep this between us… Ty Lee, are you okay?"

Secrets, more secrets when Ty Lee had told Azula that she would be, from here on out, truthful. But now there was no going back. She looked at Suki and knew that no matter what she did she would forever be the person she feared she was, a coward who hid behind her intentions and used them to justify her failings. Suki was looking for a guarantee of her people's safety, a guarantee that was not Ty Lee's place (not her right) to give.

In her mind she thought of the new life she had made with Azula, precious and small, over before it had started. For how deeply she cherished it, she had wished for the dream of it to last forever, blind to the realities of her heart. Deep down she had already known, had never cared to see.

And yet she had never imagined that day would come as it did.

She thought of the tenuous trust they had started to build. She thought of the close moments spent in the smallness of her house. She imagined one day (eventually, inevitably) when it would be a careless touch, a word said in the wrong way, a stray look that lingered too long that darted too fast that would give her away and all of the goodwill she had worked so hard to rebuild would dissolve in an instant in Azula's eyes when comprehension would melt into disgust, vindication, to have uncovered Ty Lee's price at last. Ty Lee thought of all her happiness turning to ash, willing to sustain herself on scant fond memories than to risk the pain of her whole heart and to be left with nothing.

She surprised Suki with the strength of her words, her conviction, her belief (her knowledge) and the years of mistakes that rose behind her, compelling her, driving her towards the last brave thing she could ever do for Azula.

"I can't be Azula's caretaker anymore." She swore she wouldn't cry, no matter how Suki reacted, angry or not. She had left that part of her behind. "I'm resigning."


End file.
